


Erebor University

by DietBiohazard



Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, College, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 19:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DietBiohazard/pseuds/DietBiohazard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins was the first Hobbit to ever attend Erebor U. So, of course he wouldn't know about the Oakenshields.<br/>He just didn't know why it had to be him they chose as their burglar. </p><p>Modern AU, though still with Hobbits and Dwarves and all those fun creatures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Erebor U

When one first walks onto the Erebor University Campus, it’s hard not to be overwhelmed. Sprawling for just over two thousand acres, it’s a landmark to be marveled at. Memorable not only for it’s towering statues in commemoration to the founding dean, Thror, it is also mentioned across the world for it’s architecture. Being built literally in the side of a mountain on it’s northern-most point, it is almost a part of the mountain itself, it’s sprawling buildings and towers etched with celtic designs and portraits. 

While it was a mostly dwarf-populated university, it had open arms for all adventurous creatures of Middle Earth. There was a considerable amount of sorcerers and men, and much to the surprise of much of the staff, a few elves managed to add themselves to the registry. They were treated cordially with no discrimination, but there was a viable tension.

There are a record fifty-three different campus shuttles, seven campus lifts to get students from the base to the summit, three gyms, two football fields, and a zip line. 

To be honest, Bilbo Baggins should have grabbed a map. 

“Bofur, I feel I was lied to.” Bilbo huffed with the slightest amount of amusement in his voice, pressing the phone closer to his ear when a sudden gust of wind blew past, “This campus is like a maze! You said it’d be easy!” 

“And you believed me?” The heavily accented voice on the other end of the phone was much more amused than his friend, “I told you to wait till tomorrow, I’ll give you the full tour.” 

Bilbo huffed, silently cursing dwarves, trying to hold off the pout as he continued to stomp through the courtyard. He was surrounded by flowers and trees, the gentle breeze ruffling the leaves and sending a flurry of movement around him. It was the week before classes started, so Bilbo was near alone on the campus, so he could fully take in the beauty that was Erebor U. 

“Yes, but I was already here.” Bilbo said slowly, shifting around his jacket and taking another long look around himself, “I thought, hey, might as well. Smart idea that was.” 

Bofur laughed, letting out a soft affectionate sigh, “Okay. Okay. I’ll be there in a minute.” 

“Thank you. Let’s go to lunch after. My treat.” Bilbo murmured, trying to drown out the surge of guilt in the pit of his stomach. He hated having to be looked after like this, but he was sure he’d never make it back to the dorms by himself, “I’m sorry.” 

“No problem, Bilbo.” Bofur’s smile could be heard over the phone, but his affection was true. To date, there wan’t an incident where Bofur wouldn’t do anything for Bilbo. Bilbo had been named Bofur’s little brother from the moment they met, their companionship evident from their actions for each other. 

Bilbo quickly rattled off where he _thought_ he was, followed promptly by a description of his surroundings, then he snapped his phone shut with Bofur laughing and saying with pride that he knew _exactly_ where the small Hobbit was.

Huffing, Bilbo took another long look at the courtyard he stood in. It truly was magnificent, the greenery and fresh air reminding him of home. He was dreadfully far from the Shire, but he found that the thought of home was of little comfort anymore. He doubted he’d be welcomed back with no discrimination, seeing as he was one of the first Hobbits to leave the Shire. 

Hobbits weren’t an adventurous folk, you see, and even something as tempting as knowledge at a prestigious university wasn’t enough to take them from their homes. All except for Bilbo, of course. 

Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes to the sun, Bilbo felt infinitely better knowing that Bofur was on his way. Whatever had come over him, letting him think that he could find his way around such an astoundingly large campus, he didn’t know. Letting out a breath, Bilbo readied himself to turn around and take a seat at one of the benches. 

He turned around to head to the small row of flowers to his left, when he collided heavily with a large chest, a small squeak escaping him when he fell backwards heavily. 

“Sorry! Oh, my goodness!” Bilbo immediately flailed to gather himself, gasping and opening his eyes wide as he scrambled to get to his feet. The other man groaned, his arms now only half-full of the large stack of papers he’d been toting around. 

The rest of his papers, on the other hand, were currently at the mercy of the wind and the elements, half in the air still, half stuck to the concrete. 

“Oh, no!” Bilbo exclaimed, fear spiking in his chest as he saw the calamity he’d just created. He was on his feet in a matter of seconds, scrabbling around for the papers, abandoning all thought in leu of getting every scrap of paper back to the person he’d just bowled down. 

He was half way up a tree, clambering after a particularly tricky bright yellow sheet, when he heard the boisterous laughter. 

“Get down from that tree!” The words were distorted by the man’s laughter. 

Bilbo snatched the paper quickly and slid down, sheepishly scuttling his way back to the man, finally getting a good look at him as he tried to hold in his composure. What a first impression to make, slamming into people and causing such a commotion, and it wasn’t even his first day!

There were two men there, both of them laughing harder than Bilbo had ever seen anyone laugh (which wasn’t much considering he was from the Shire). They looked rather close in age, but it was obvious that they were dwarves, from their long braided hair and short stature. 

Great, Bilbo groaned internally. He’d knocked down a _dwarf._ They were the main part of the population here, and he was already on their shit-list. 

“I want to begin my apology by saying I’ll replace whatever I just spread across the courtyard.” Bilbo gave a hesitant laugh, wondering in the back of his mind how much paper copies were in bulk. 

It took another moment for the two to stop laughing, and while he wasn’t quite positive which one he’d bumped into, they didn’t look too bent out of shape about it. 

“Not too often we see a Hobbit round these parts.” The blonde spoke, his lips curling into a devilish smirk, the twin braids framing his lips swinging lightly. 

The second tilted his head, a twin smirk on his face, his brows raising as he leaned forward to take the small stack of now-crumpled forms, “I’ve never seen a Hobbit before, didn’t realize the rumors about the feet were true.”

“Well!” Bilbo huffed, his face alighting with an annoyed tinge, “I’ve never seen a dwarf before! Never realized the rumors about the manners were true.” 

A lie, but a good one.

There was a stunned silence, their eyes wide as hey looked down at the small creature, before they broke out into their usual twin grins again, their boisterous laughter back with a vengeance. 

“I like you!” The brunette exclaimed, slapping a heavy hand on Bilbo’s shoulder, shaking the Hobbit around for a moment before stepping back in line with his brother. 

The blonde’s grin grew, “Hobbit’s got some spunk!”

“This Hobbit has also got a name.” Bilbo cooled down, his flush turning from annoyance to embarrassment, though he couldn’t stop the small quirk of a smile beginning to form, “I’m Bilbo Baggins.” 

“Fili.” The blonde  smirked again, eyes raking up and down the small form. 

The brunette smiled wide and jubilant, “and Kili.”

“At your service.” 

Bilbo laughed, his eyes lighting and a great weight falling off his shoulders. Another huge gust of wind suddenly blew by them, tearing the papers that Bilbo had collected from his hand, sending them flying into the air and fluttering away. 

And Bilbo had thought the brothers’ laughter before was uproarious. 

“Tell us, Mr. Boggins, what has you wandering around campus five days before classes start?” Kili started easily, his eager gaze making it obvious that he didn’t want this interaction with the Hobbit to be cut short. 

Bilbo shrugged, reaching down to pick up his forgotten backpack, slinging it over his shoulder, “As you can probably put together, I’m new. I was trying to find my way around...” 

“But got lost?” Fili supplied, showing no mock in his voice as he lifted his lips in a smile, “It’s a big place.”

“Well, I put that together.” Bilbo sighed, returning to his original plan of finding somewhere to sit. The smooth wood of the bench was warm as he sat, making him hum in happiness and sigh as he was finally off his feet. 

Kili, on the other hand, looked no less than overjoyed, his eyes wide as he nearly jumped up and down, “Do you need a tour? Our afternoon was just suddenly cleared-”

Bilbo winced, “sorry about that.” 

“-and we are old veterans, I’ll have you know.” Kili swept over to where Bilbo was sitting, plopping next to him and sidling up close, his smile infectious. Bilbo couldn’t hold back one of his own, but jolted when Fili took a heavy seat next to him. 

Fili stretched his arms up, laying them out along the back of the bench, slinging an arm behind Bilbo’s shoulders, “and by ‘old veterans’, he means we’re in our third year.” 

“Only four more to go, right?” Kili joked, laughing at Bilbo’s incredulous look. 

Bilbo coughed a bit, leaning back against the bench and sighing as he slumped into the seat, “Thank you for the offer, truly, but I already have a friend coming to rescue me.” 

“Another Hobbit?” Kili looked ecstatic at the thought of meeting another Hobbit, like they were some oddity that only came around at a full moon. It didn’t bother Bilbo much, probably due to the fact that Bilbo had similar thoughts about dwarves not too long ago. 

Bilbo laughed, shaking his head and letting out a large smile at the mention of his close friend, “He’s a dwarf. He’s actually been coming here for four years already, though he isn’t graduating for another year.” 

“Ah. Maybe another time, then.” 

Despite the statement, the brothers made no move to get up and continue on their way. It was quite a true statement when they said that Bilbo had practically thrown their afternoon to the wind (pun quite intended), and now that they’d met this sweet little Hobbit, they could think of no better way to start the semester. 

“You guys really don’t have to wait with me.” Bilbo nervously started, offering a sheepish smile, “I don’t want to be a bother.” 

“Don’t bother us none.” Fili reached up his hand and pulled gently on Bilbo’s hair, smirking when Bilbo jumped a bit at the action, “Always love to find new companions.” 

“Can’t say I disagree.” Bilbo huffed, swinging his legs. 

A silence broke out then, Bilbo patting his hands on his thighs to pass the time, glancing around the courtyard in the sudden lull of conversation. He was oddly comfortable with the two, as strange and quirky as they were. They were the complete opposite of what he’d imagined dwarf’s to be, they were kind and funny. 

He’d always imagined dwarfs were crude axe-wielding barbarians with tattoos and biceps as large as Bilbo’s head. 

“Fili. Kili.” 

Bilbo jumped, gaze shooting up as he felt both brothers on either side go completely still, almost nervous. Trying to find the source of the voice calling for the boys, Bilbo saw two men coming up the far side of the courtyard, wearing dark colors and tight expressions. 

A small squeak escaped Bilbo as his gaze locked on the first man. Ah, there he was, the very definition of what Bilbo always imagined a dwarf to be.

“Dwalin!” Kili laughed nervously, reaching to scratch nervously at the back of his neck, coughing in the back of his throat, “What brings you here this beautiful morning?”

The man looked as though he could crack rocks with his glare alone, his large arms crossed over his chest in distain as he regarded the two, sparing nary a glance at the small Hobbit encased between them. His beard was dark, as were his eyes, and it was everything that Bilbo thought a dwarf should be. 

“Where are the flyers?” Dwalin’s voice was just as deep as his scowl, if possible. 

At the words, Bilbo felt himself shrink, trying desperately to blend into his background. Oh, dear, this was gearing up to be quite the day. If he hoped hard enough, maybe he could get out of this situation with as little bruises as possible. 

Kili jumped in, cheekily smiling, “Well, you see, we figured that instead of pinning them on trees and handing them out, we could throw them to the wind and see where that got us.” 

“They’ll reach near and far! The masses will know of our message!” Fili proclaimed, holding a hand to his chest and thrusting the other in the air. 

Bilbo couldn’t hold back a laugh, pressing the back of his hand against his lips. This seemed to please the brothers to no end, both of them beaming at Dwalin as if they’d just won the argument a thousand times over. 

There was the subtle clomp of boots as the second man, the one who had accompanied Dwalin, came strutting up, “You will get replacements immediately, boys.”

“Uncle!” Kili jumped up at this, excitedly prancing to the man and coming to a stop next to him like and excited puppy, “I didn’t know you’d be here today, I thought you were at the office?” 

“The firm wanted me to come down and make sure the job fair flyers were handed out.” The man sighed with exasperated affection at his nephews, “Which, as I can see, was a good idea. You two can’t get anything done without at least two supervisors.” 

“I resent that.” Fili murmured under his breath. 

Bilbo, on the other hand, found that all the sounds had suddenly stopped. His breath was drawn from his chest. His hands no longer had any feeling, his blood was cold, he couldn’t gather a thought because his mind had clouded over. All his senses, everything in his being, was captured by one source. 

He was tall, for a dwarf. Elegant, exuded power like he owned the very word. He was regal, the subtle gray streaks in his hair adding to his image, his eyes deep and stormy. He was broad and powerful, his long hair draping over his large shoulders and back. 

He was truly one of the most stunning men Bilbo had ever met. 

“And who have you managed to drag along with you?” The man eyed Bilbo wearily, his unimpressed gaze digging into him, “Too unassuming and small to be a dwarf.”

He was also an _asshole._

Bilbo leveled his own glare, letting his breath out through his teeth in a desperate attempt to not speak a word. All godly thoughts Bilbo had wrapped around this man came to a screeching halt, and his mental image provided the man with devil horns and a flicking pointed tail. 

“Uncle Thorin!” Kili huffed, rolling his eyes at the other before sauntering back to Bilbo and standing next to the bench rather than sitting in it once more, “Bilbo is very nice, I’ll have you know.”

“And he’s a Hobbit! First one to Erebor U, right uncle?” Fili finally got to his feet, desperately trying to defend his new Hobbit friend while simultaneously not get on his uncle’s bad-side. 

Thorin took a few long strides, coming up to the bench like an elegant king, standing ten feet tall in a dwarf’s body. His eyes held contempt as he stared down at the Hobbit, his deep voice rolling over Bilbo, “So, this is the Hobbit.” 

 

\--------

 

“Augh, you should have seen him!” Bilbo cried, holding his hands in tight fists as if he were going to punch something. Bilbo scrunched his face and deepened his voice, “ _‘So, this is the Hobbit.’”_

He huffed again, “What was he trying to pull?” 

Bofur, on the other hand, found his terribly entertaining. Throwing his head back in a laugh, he tried desperately to pay attention to the road he was currently driving on, but he couldn’t hold back the constant peals of laughter at Bilbo’s predicament. 

“Man, running into Kili and Fili Oakenshield on the first day!” Bofur laughed again, slapping his hand on the steering wheel, coming to a slow rolling stop at a red light, “Man, you’re gonna have one hell of a time this semester. The Oakenshield’s are somewhat of a legend around Erebor U.” 

“Legend?” Bilbo instantly leaned forward, intrigued. He was truly a Hobbit at heart, and loved a good gossip when he could hear it. 

Bofur laughed again, knowing he’d caught his friend, hook-line-and-sinker, “Well, I haven’t heard a lot of it, since I moved from the Blue Mountains only five years ago. I’ve met Thorin and his family, they’re very tight-lipped.” 

“Come on, Bofur!” Bilbo eagerly prod, wiggling around in excitement, “you must know more than that.” 

“Aye.” Bofur nodded, moving forward again as the light turned green, absently reaching up to rearrange his hat on his head, “But that’s not my story to tell, Bilbo.” 

Bilbo huffed, slumping back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest, still ruffled from his interaction with Thorin. The man was devilishly handsome, in all senses of the word. He was sharp-tongued and rude towards all those he didn’t consider a friend, but those he did hold close, he held with a fierce intensity. He no longer attended Erebor U, Bilbo could gather, both from his age and the way Kili spoke about him being away from the office. 

“Come now.” Bofur reached over gently to ruffle Bilbo’s hair affectionately, smirking when Bilbo finally cracked a smile, “Now, tell me where you want to go to lunch.” 

“Nah.” Bilbo murmured, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone, only to have a small slip of paper come along with it. He sent another smile towards Bofur as he picked up the paper, “I told you, you get to choose since you came all the way down to rescue me.” 

Unfolding the paper, Bilbo’s eyes widened and a smile came slowly to his face. There, on the unassuming piece of lined paper, were two crudely drawn smiley faces with features made out to be Kili and Fili. The little Kili was holding out a piece sign, and next to him was a phone number. The little Fili was winking and holding up a thumbs up, and yet another phone number was presented. Under them, scrawled in quick writing, was _‘At your service!’_

“They gave you their phone numbers?” Bofur mused, leaning over and looking at the paper, raising his brows in wonder, “Wow. They wont even give the school board their phone numbers.” 

Bilbo raised his brows, nodding in realization. He quickly typed the numbers into his phone, even going so far as to snap a picture of each of the small figures to use as contact icons. He had a record thirteen contacts in his phone, and it was with jubilation that he added them. 

Maybe Erebor U wouldn’t be so scary after all. 

He did believe that the worst was behind him.

  



	2. Bilbo Baggins: Burglar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo Baggins never should have opened his door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank you for all your wonderful Kudos and comments! Made me so excited!  
> A few of you mentioned that you were wondering why Bilbo knew nothing of Dwarven culture, especially with being Bofur's friend for so long. I don't want to completely erase Dwarven and Hobbit culture with the modernization aspect, but it is kind of dulled a bit, and further explanation is going to be in the story!  
> Hope you all enjoy!

Bilbo was completely unprepared for what the campus grounds would be like when actual _students_ in it. 

And never before had he felt so entirely small. 

His backpack was dreadfully heavy on his shoulders, his feet hurt from numerous stomps from people twice his size, and his spirits were low. And behold, he was lost. He wasn’t the adventuring sort, as stated before, so he never had the best sense of direction. The campus was a vastly different place when it was full of people. One moment he was next to the Union building, and the next he was being dragged with the crowd and was lost in a sea of backpacks and crude words. 

He was thirty minutes away from his first class, some sort of required behavioral science course, he couldn’t quite remember if it was sociology or psychology, and he knew he probably wouldn’t make it there on time. He was a studious Hobbit, and the mere knowledge that he was going to be late on his _first day_ made his skin crawl. 

Right now, though? He was crammed into the corner of a building, framed on each side by a row of flowers. He had made a personal resolution not to cry or pass out on his first day at Erebor U, and he was already half way to both. He even remembered a map this time and it was getting him nowhere. 

But there was one resolution he was going to stick to -- he was _not_ going to call Bofur. The Dwarf had already done so much for him, way too much, and there was no way Bilbo was going to burden him even more. Even if he was ready to dig a hole and hide in it. 

 Bilbo took a shaky breath, then confidently strode forward. The building he needed to be at had to be around here somewhere, he knew he was in the right place. Carefully stepping into the throng of dwarves, men, and a few elves, Bilbo fought to move. 

“Hey, little man.” A mocking voice accompanied the shove he received from the side, “Watch where you’re going.” 

Bilbo huffed and continued to move, but it seemed like every step he took someone was shoving and pushing at him. He was going to have numerous bruises in numerous places by the end of this, all of which he wasn’t looking forward to. 

“Hey, watch where you’re going, halfling!” 

Bilbo was shoved once more, stumbling off to the side and catching his ankle on the edge of a flower grove. The poor flowers flattened as he landed on his backside over the lip of the garden. A throb went up his spine, and Bilbo didn’t even bother to look up to try and catch his attacker with a glare.

Taking in a deep and even breath through his nose and out his mouth, Bilbo fought back the surge of angry thoughts, he had to convince himself not to get up and chase the man. He would be horribly overpowered if he did try and take on a _human,_ but that didn’t mean Bilbo was okay with being pushed around. 

“See, I know Hobbits like gardens and everything...” 

“...but I’m sure there are better places to sit, Bilbo.” 

And instantly his mood flipped, finding the two faces of the very familiar brothers squatting before him utterly comforting. Even if their lips were pursed to try and hold back their laughter. 

Bilbo quirked a brow, “I miss my old hole in the ground, what can I say?” 

They smiled in unison, wide and happy. With two quick movements, they reached in and snatched his arms, pulling him up and quickly to his feet. He barely had time to squeak at the movement, before he was squeaking as they both patted the dirt off his legs and backside, smirking evilly. 

“All better. You Hobbits are strange creatures.” Kili laughed, placing his hands on his hips and tilting his head to survey Bilbo, making sure the little man was completely free of dirt, “I don’t know how the board will react if you start digging holes in the gardens.” 

Fili rolled his eyes at his brother, reaching and clocking him lightly on the back of his head, “He’s not going to _go digging holes,_ Kili.” 

“I _know_!” Kili squawked, reaching up to wrap his forearms around his head to protect him from further attacks,”I was _kidding_!” 

Rollings his eyes once more, Fili leveled his gaze on Bilbo. His brows set as he caught the small Hobbit gazing off into the crowd, a nervous tick to his brow. Fili’s hand tightened on the strap of his book-bag, his frown deepening. With a quick glance at Kili, he saw the same grim look on his brother’s face as their eyes met. They were no strangers to torment and mockery, and they particularly didn’t like to see Bilbo having to face it. 

“Hey.” Fili spoke up, keeping his voice light and airy as he saw Bilbo’s eyes snap to meet his, “You looked to be lost, yet again.” 

Bilbo frowned, knitting his brows together. 

“And, we thought we’d help you to your next class.” Kili quickly held out a hand, his eyes eager as he awaited Bilbo’s response, “Where’s your schedule?” 

“Oh.” Bilbo nodded and scrambled just a bit to reach into his pockets, pulling out his wadded and crumpled piece of paper with his class schedule written hastily on it. He handed it into the eagerly waiting palm with a bit of trepidation, wondering just exactly the sneaky smirk on Fili’s lips meant. 

Kili’s eyes widened with a obviously fake show of shock, “Brother, would you _look at that.”_

“What, brother?” Fili mused, slinging an arm around Kili’s shoulder to glance at the poor Hobbit’s schedule. He, too, faked astonishment, “would you _look at that.”_

Bilbo gulped, raising a single brow and coughing a bit, “W-what?”

“ _We share all our classes.”_

Eyes widening in legitimate shock, Bilbo dashed forward and stood on his tip toes, reaching to drag Kili’s arms down so he could get a better look at his own schedule, “What?” 

“Well, all of the Gen-Eds, at least.” Kili shrugged, swinging around to Bilbo’s side and Fili to the other, “Intro to Sociology, Math 1030 and.... Zumba?” 

Fili smiled devilishly, “ _You’re_ taking _Zumba?”_

Bilbo huffed, face flushing as he allowed himself to be dragged along, presumably to his first class if the boys were correct in them sharing it. Somewhere in his chest, he was pleased beyond recognition that he shared such classes with these boys. More than even the thought of being late to his classes, was the thought of being _alone_ in his classes. 

“Well.” Bilbo tried to fight down his flush but found it rather impossible, “If it’s as you said, and we share all our Gen-Eds, you two are _also_ taking Zumba.” 

“Yes, we are, but _you_ taking it is so much funnier _.”_ Kili laughed out loud, placing a warm hand on the small of Bilbo’s back as he led them forward through the parting crowd. 

It was then that Bilbo actually noticed. It was after another comfortable lull of silence, the brothers warm on either side of him, a strong presence that made him feel safe against the people who would torment him. A lull of silence, and he realized that’s what it truly was, a lull surrounding the three.

The crowd around them was parting for the brothers, all eyes on them as they walked past, swift and dark whispers following them. The eyes of the people around them were dark, even the fellow dwarves looking on them with deep distain in their eyes. They weren’t eyes of kinship or awe. 

They were all eyes of disgust. 

“We are no strangers to torment, Bilbo.” Fili’s voice was dark, his cheery mood replaced with a somber tone as he raised a hand to Bilbo’s back, just above his brother’s. 

Kili’s hand tightened, and when the Hobbit glanced up, the brunette’s eyes were pinched, “Rumors travel like wildfire, Bilbo. Will you believe any of them?” 

Bilbo gulped, scanning slowly over the rows of people. They were the people who tripped him and pushed him, called him _halfling._ These two brothers were warm and kind and soft. 

The decision was practically mind-numbingly simple. 

“Well, I’ve never been fond of rumors. Us Hobbits love a good gossip, but never rumors.” Bilbo nodded, finishing his statement and leaving it at that. 

He didn’t catch the looks of astonishment leveled at him, the slight flush of Kili’s cheeks, the large smile growing on Fili’s. Their hands tightened on his back, fingers brushing as they did. 

Their eyes met over Bilbo’s curly hair, and they knew instantly. 

They’d found their burglar. 

 

\-----------

 

“Hello?” 

Thorin hadn’t truly wanted to answer when he saw Kili’s face appear on the screen of his phone, a happy ditty playing to indicate that his nephew was calling. Don’t get him wrong, he loved his nephews to death, but that didn’t mean that he particularly wanted to answer their phone calls. 

They could be...energetic. 

But still, he flipped open his phone and pressed it to his ear anyways. 

“Uncle!” Kili exclaimed, his voice full of joy and energy, “I was hoping you’d answer, I have some good news!” 

Thorin held the phone from his ear for a moment, taking a deep breath and allowing his ears to heal for a moment. Standing from his desk, Thorin turned to the large panes of window positioned at the back of his office, heading towards them to perhaps get some fresh air. 

Pressing a palm to the glass, Thorin prepared himself for Kili, “And what news might this be?” 

“Uncle.” Kili’s voice was much calmer than before, but so much happier, “We do believe we’ve found our burglar.” 

 

\---------------

 

“You should have called me!” 

Once again, the guilt threatened to overwhelm him. He hated worrying people, but above all else, he hated worrying Bofur. The Dwarf was nothing if not supportive, always keeping Bilbo’s best interest at heart, and that was just what made Bilbo guilty. 

“Look at you.” Bofur sighed, plopping on the bed next to Bilbo, nudging him in the side playfully, “Everyone’s stepping on you wherever you go.” 

“Yes, well, I daresay that’s my fault.” Bilbo sighed, leaning back against the wall with his hands wrapped around his knees, “But, Kili and Fili came to help me.”

That didn’t make the furrow of worry leave Bofur’s brow, and if anything, it made his frown worsen, “The Oakenshield boys?” 

“Yeah.” Bilbo laughed, a smile unconsciously coming to his face as he thought about the two, his bruises on his skin and pride forgotten in leu of the two dwarves, “I’d always thought that dwarves were big bruisers, you know? With huge biceps and fists like steak hammers.” 

“Hey.” Bofur huffed, reaching to rest his hands behind his head as he took a seat next to Bilbo, mocking a pout, “What’s that saying about me? I’m very attractive, I hope you know.” 

Bilbo laughed, nudging his friend in the side, “Yes, you’re absolutely gorgeous, Bofur.” 

“Good.” 

“But, you’re also the first and only Dwarf I had ever met until a week ago.” Bilbo hunched, slumping over to the side and leaning against Bofur, his words suddenly calm, “I didn’t know what to expect. You’ve told me stories of your family, but you’ve never truly told me anything about _dwarves._ ” 

“That’s because you never asked. You’re too polite.” Bofur brought down a hand over Bilbo’s shoulder, giving his friend a pleasant shake and letting his breath out in a affectionate huff. 

“I had no interest in Dwarven culture all the way in the Shire, and I couldn’t bother you all the way in the Blue Mountains with my trivial questions.” Bilbo shrugged, realizing that he probably should have taken a crash course on Dwarves before he got here, “But -- believe me, I’ll be asking now. You won’t get me to shut up.”

“I look forward to it.” 

There was a lull in silence, both of them rather comfortable with their position and not having any desire to move. Their dorm was warm, and the TV was playing some old sitcom that both of them enjoyed, so there was no pressing issue that needed to be addressed. 

The dorm Bofur and Bilbo shared was comfortable for the two, even more so than others. The beds were large and built for dwarves, so Bilbo found his particularly enjoyable. Their beds were pressed on the opposite walls of the room, two twin dressers in the middle. A TV was set up before Bilbo’s bed, small and modest. Off in the corner by Bofur’s bed was a bathroom and a kitchenette off on a separate corner. 

Bilbo had never believed he’d ever be rooming with Bofur. They’d had a strange relationship, Bilbo seeing Bofur a dozen or so times throughout the year periodically, when the Dwarf would travel down to the Shire on business. It was four years ago that Bofur decided to go to Erebor U for his Masters in Woodworking, and last year that the Dwarf invited Bilbo to attend. 

It had taken a year of prodding and convincing, but eventually, here they were. 

Bilbo was just about asleep on Bofur’s shoulder when there was a hard rapping at the door, nearly shaking it in its frame. A quick glance at the clock on his dresser told him it was nearly nine o’ clock, making him wonder who on earth could be visiting at this time of night. He didn’t have any friends yet (spare the Oakenshield boys), so he immediately blamed Bofur by default. 

“Nope.” Bofur groaned, reaching and rubbing a hand roughly down his face, “I call not it, you get the door.”

Bilbo murmured something under his breath, taking another minute to gather himself, before he pushed up off Bofur’s shoulder and scooted to the end of his bed. Straightening his clothes on the way to the door, he was fully prepared to tell whoever was on the other side to piss off (though much more politely), and crawl back into bed. 

Except, the person on the other side of the door probably wouldn’t have appreciated that. 

“Dwalin.” The man stated his own name quickly, reminding Bilbo that yes, this was the stereotypical Dwarf that he’d run into the other day with Fili and Kili. Dwalin’s eyes hardened at Bilbo’s stunned look, “At your service.” 

All hints of fatigue were swept from Bilbo as he instantly came to attention, his eyes widening and his fear spiking, “Uh...Bilbo Baggins, at yours.” 

Apparently finding the hallway no longer acceptable, Dwalin shoved his way into the room. Bilbo was roughly pushed aside as Dwalin invited himself in, stomping into the dorm and glancing around with distain. 

“Uhm, excuse me!” Bilbo gawked as the newcomer divested himself of his jacket and threw it on the ground. Bofur was already on his feet at Bilbo’s scared squawk at opening the door, but upon seeing Dwalin, instantly calmed. 

Bofur took the other’s hand in a friendly shake, “Dwalin, you guys said you’d call me before we planned to meet.” 

“Yeah, well, Thorin wanted it as soon as possible.” Dwalin made himself at home, sitting heavily on Bilbo’s bed and sagging into the weight, looking much older. 

Eyes shooting from Bofur to Dwalin rapidly, Bilbo slowly let the door close behind him, leaning against it with a suspicious tick to his brow. Maybe Dwalin _was_ one of Bofur’s friends...but the cheerful Dwarf hadn’t mentioned anyone coming over tonight. He had planned on introducing Bilbo to some of his friends in the coming weeks, but Dwarfhe’d never really imagined Dwalin and Bofur as companions. 

“Bofur...is he one of your friends?” Bilbo inched forward, not wanting to interrupt anything, but half hoping they’d have their little get-together _off_ of his bed. 

Before either of them could answer him, Bofur only offering him a sheepish smile, there was another loud knock at the door. A shiver of trepidation flooded his system, making him freeze. Bofur _definitely_ would have told him if _two_ friends were coming. 

Barely glancing up with his eyes, Dwalin didn’t hold back his look of contempt, “That’ll be the door.” 

Jumping, Bilbo was unsure of why he agreed, wether it was Dwalin’s dark glare or his large stature, but he couldn’t say no to him. Walking back to the door, he was a little more hesitant with opening it this time, wincing and slowly pulling at it. 

Another Dwarf, though older. Much older. He wore simple clothes, but had a long white beard and white hair. He was very kind-looking, but that didn’t do much for Bilbo’s nerves. He smiled when he saw Bilbo, “Ah, Balin, at your service.” 

“Oh...good evening?” Bilbo tried to offer, wondering if he should let this man in as well, or if this was a horrible mistake. He wasn’t sure what the maximum occupancy was per dorm, but he was already becoming much too crowded for his liking. 

Balin nodded politely, “Yes, yes it is.” 

He didn’t look to be leaving, stood there for a while, and eventually the only thing Bilbo could do was back up and pull the door open. It seemed to be the correct action, for the older Dwarf sauntered in happily, glancing around with wide and curious eyes. 

Bilbo closed the door with enough time to turn back and see Dwalin raise to his feet, a uncharacteristic smirk lifting his lips as he caught sight of the older Dwarf. 

“Well, look’it you.” Dwalin sauntered, laughing deep, “Shorter’n wider than the last time we met.” 

Balin looked positively tickled at the sight of Dwalin, happily walking to meet up with him in the middle of the room, tilting his head he smiled fondly, “Wider, not shorter.” 

Ah. So the old Dwarf _was_ supposed to be here. ‘Supposed to be here’ was a loose term, and while Bilbo would have rather had Dwalin and Balin far away from his dorm, but maybe they _were_ friends of Bofur’s. How rude would it be for him to go barging forward and demand they leave, just because he wanted to go to sleep? 

Standing awkwardly by the door, Bilbo coughed, trying to not get in the way while simultaneously trying to take in the situation. Bofur was standing by the two, laughing and talking as the others parted and continued to talk animatedly. Catching Bilbo’s nervous stance, Bofur was inches away from walking to his friend to reassure him, but was interrupted. 

Bilbo visibly winced as there was another rap at the door, eyes widening as he swung around to glare at the entrance as if it were its fault all these dwarves were arriving. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t funny, and he was most _definitely_ blaming Bofur. 

Throwing open the door once more, Bilbo was ready to ask whoever was on the other side _exactly_ what they were doing here, when he stopped to stare at those on the other side. Visibly relaxing, Bilbo almost wanted to cry with relief. 

“Kili, Fili!” Bilbo shot forward, grabbing each of them by their arm and pulling them in with a quick tug. The others in the room barely spared him a glance, as he hurriedly crowded the boys into the kitchenette. The boys’ smiles didn’t leave as they allowed themselves to be corralled, almost looking as if they were expecting Bilbo’s flustered appearance. 

Fili and Kili were already smirking in wild amusement when they stopped on the tile. Bilbo looked positively _frazzled,_ and they would be lying if they said they didn’t find it completely adorable. Hair mussed, hands nearly shaking with barely restrained nerves, his lips almost white with how hard the Hobbit was pursing them. The man looked a wreck; an adorably cute, small wreck. 

“Please.” Bilbo looked both of them hard in the eyes, quickly snatching a glance over his shoulder at the other three, “What is going on? Bofur told me nothing about a whole party coming to our dorm tonight!” 

“Well...” Kili’s smile faltered, his eyes unable to meet Bilbo’s, finding the kitchen around them suddenly very fascinating, “That may be some our fault...”

Fili had the decency to look guilty, as he too found many more interesting things than the small Hobbit in front of them. The brothers fidgeted and squirmed, but offered naught a word of explanation. They stood completely out of place on the tile, uncomfortable, but weren’t about to offer an explanation to get out of Bilbo’s scrutiny. 

Turning back to the three in the main part of the room, Bilbo huffed as he saw boots strewn everywhere (Fili’s and Kili’s had somehow miraculously managed to get added to the pile), and already his bedspread was a mess. It couldn’t be helped he guessed. He _was_ a Hobbit, and Hobbits were notorious for loving parties. Even if said parties were uninvited, unwanted, and uncomfortable. 

“Guess we should order some pizza.” With his final breath of defeat, Bilbo uttered those words, knowing that they were much like a death sentence. 

Before he could even think about reaching for the phone, he was swept up in a large pair of arms and swung around. Kili’s jubilant laughter was all around them, obviously pleased at the very mention of food. Bilbo could barely squawk a protest, as he was desperately grabbing Kili’s arms, his face erupting in a blush as he spun. 

“Kili!” Fili cried, laughing himself, almost doubling over at the look on the poor Hobbit’s face. Truly, it was Bilbo’s own fault for mentioning pizza, but the look Bilbo was sporting was particularly humorous. 

Kili was just rounding his tenth swing with Bilbo, when they were interrupted by a loud pounding on the dorm doorway. 

Bilbo sighed, “How many pizzas to I need to get?” 

 

\------------ 

 

Pizza boxes were strewn over the ground, napkins were stuffed in every crevice, and grease stained the walls where the dwarves found it appropriate to use as a napkin. They were all singing and laughing, jumping over each other and offering beer (of which Bilbo had no clue where it’d come from), and sloshing everyone about. He thought six people in one dorm was stretching it, but _fourteen?_

After Kili had finally put him down, he’d answered the door to an avalanche, of which he quickly put together as their rest of their group. He’d desperately tried to gather their names, but with all the rhymes and oddities, the only ones he could fully grasp were Bifur and Bombur, as they’d been mentioned once or twice in his conversations with Bofur, and the strange man they’d brought with, Gandalf. 

He was a tall man, a wizard they’d told him, his long grey hair falling much like his Dwarven friends. He was kind, laughed along with the rest, and didn’t find their table manners nearly as distasteful as Bilbo. 

“What is Osgiliath!” The one with the great red beard cried, to later be known as Gloin, pointing at the TV as if he had won the thing himself. Cheers and groans echoed the room as the contestant answered correctly, stating the same answer as Gloin. 

Of course, Bilbo groaned as he watched them all cheer and prepare for the next question, even going so far as to start betting. They could remember some obscure capital of Gondor, but could they remember to throw their paper plates away? No. They found his bed a much more suitable receptacle. 

They were all doing everything as if they had personally went into Bilbo’s mind and was doing exactly what he hated. He wouldn’t be surprised if they started singing a song about it. 

“Cheer up, Bilbo.” Bofur sighed as he slowly lowered himself to where Bilbo sat pressed against the wall. He’d seen the poor Hobbit slump over and slide to a seat, his head hanging with anguish, “Everything will be explained in due time.” 

“Will it?” Bilbo huffed, trying to hold his anger in check, but it was hard when he saw this calamity in front of him, “Just tell me what is going on, Bofur!” 

Bofur sighed, reaching and gently taking Bilbo’s knee, shaking it a bit before withdrawing, “That’s not my story to tell.” 

Bilbo huffed. Of _course_ it wasn’t Bofur’s story to tell. It was _never_ his story to tell. That’s precisely why Bilbo knew nothing of dwarves, despite his best friend being one! Bilbo may have not particularly asked about Dwarves, but it wasn’t like Bofur was jumping to tell Bilbo about them. 

“Look.” Bilbo sighed, sparing a glance at his hatted friend, “I know--” 

He was cut off yet again by another thumping at the door, the deep and sallow sound resonating like a fog horn through all the noise. The room went still, silent as the grave, the only sound was the subdued trilling of the television. All eyes were locked on the door, as if the power behind it was immense. 

He was just about to get to his feet to grab the door himself, ready to curse the dwarves under his breath, while simultaneously wondering if they had enough food for whoever was on the other side of the door. Bofur’s sudden grasp shocked him as the Dwarf grasped his wrist, making him still on the ground. 

Gandalf was the one who got to the door, his tall frame only hunched over slightly as he turned the knob, pulling it open and standing to the side. 

Those familiar steps echoed through the dorm, making Bilbo almost instantly know who it was. Only one person would walk with that much purpose, with that much power, with that much intent all packed into his frame. This man knew exactly where he was going a hundred percent of the time, and it never failed to piss Bilbo off. 

“Thorin Oakenshield.” Gandalf took Thorin’s hand, shaking it swiftly before retreating to his seat, “So good to see you again.” 

“You said this place would be easy to find.” Thorin’s eyes travelled to his nephews as he said these words, shrugging out of his jacket and adding it to the slowly growing pile of jackets near the kitchenette. 

_Thorin Oakenshield._ Bilbo bristled at the memory of their last encounter. Of all the people that had to walk through his door, it had to be him, the man who walked as if he were a giant though he wasn’t more than a foot taller than Bilbo. The man who managed to make Bilbo feel as if he were no taller than an ant. 

Bilbo groaned, but _why_ did Thorin Oakenshield have to be so goddamned handsome? 

Thorin’s sweeping eyes finally came to rest on the Hobbit, his eyes showing nothing of his thoughts, all except for his contempt. 

From that very look by those deep and mysterious blue eyes, Bilbo could only tell that this man hated him.  _  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if there were any typos or misspellings. This is completely un-betad, so all the mistakes are my own. Hope you all like! :)


	3. Taking the Contract

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo hates that he faints. But at least it helps him make some important decisions.

The founding dean of Erebor University was a proud and regal dwarf by the name of Thror. He was a prideful man, born even before the ages of war and tyranny against the orcs. He had fought in many a battle for his homeland, the land of Dale. Though, above all else, he desired the mountainside of Erebor, of which Dale was settled no more than ten miles away. The mountain of Erebor stood tall against all the elements and the world before it, and as the years past, Thror desired to conquer it. 

Alongside the passage of time, Thror lived through the invention of electricity, flight, automobiles, and so much more. The world had a desire for knowledge, for endurance, for power, and he was more than willing to sustain it. He had initially intended to built a great throne, a castle to himself, but the fates would not have it. The buildings grew, the towers scraped the sky, and just as slowly as his conquest of knowledge, came the revelation of what Erebor truly was. 

A place for said knowledge. 

Large enough to house any who had a thirst for adventure and for all the information of the world, Erebor was a force to be reckoned with. It was at the top of the fields for medical, engineering, architecture, fine arts, and language studies. It was a powerful academy, but also profitable. 

But that’s why Thror simply couldn’t last. In their digging and building, they found the single richest vein of gold and silver in the entirety of Middle Earth. Eyes clouded with lust, deep desire of the gold. He hoarded himself at the very peak of the mountain for years, pouring himself in the gold. Rooms filled to the tops with gold and silver, trinkets and adornments, metals and jewels. 

But above all else, he hoarded a stone. A stone they’d found, deep within the earth; a stone that shone like the moon in the water. It’s beauty was unrivaled by all the gems and jewels in the world, it sone like the sunlight through the clouds.

The Arkenstone. 

The heart of the mountain soon became the heart of Thror, for nothing entered his thoughts once he found it. It was testament to his power and will, and it drilled itself into his soul, leaving him blind to all.

That was why it was so easy for Smaug to take everything from under his feet. Smaug was a dragon-like creature, rumored to be a skin-changer, one moment having the form of a man, while the next a fiery dragon. He was ruthless, tyrannical, and oh so powerful. It took no power at all for him to sneak in under the feet of the Durin line, knocking Thror off the throne. 

He claimed many things, had all the right people on his side, working the law and the underground workings like puppets. He was a conniving creature, with his talons wrapped around everyone he deemed fit. It was simple for him to take everything that was Erebor, taking the gold as his own, taking the heart of the mountain as well as the heart of Erebor.

 

\-----

 

“Are there any developments?” Thorin spoke slowly as he sat perched on the edge of Bofur’s bed, eating a slice of pizza as if he were regally eating a feast. He rolled his eyes over Kili and Fili, before landing on the old grey wizard, “Gandalf, you said you had more information.”

“Yes. The board of education is starting developments on the internship.” Gandalf coughed, glancing at each occupant of the room, keeping Bilbo’s gaze for a long moment, before turning back to Thorin, “It’s the perfect opportunity. They must accept a representative of each species in attendance to Erebor University.” 

“You’re positive?” Thorin leaned forward, his eyes intent and dark. 

Gandalf nodded, “I’m not part of the school board for nothing, Thorin. I’ve been searching for a way to uncover all that Smaug has done. I do believe this is our chance.” 

“And we found Bilbo!” Kili exclaimed from his seat beside his uncle, hand nervously clutching at his jeans as he gestured toward Bilbo with the other, “He was just what we were looking for, right uncle?” 

“We were looking for a burglar.” Thorin mused, once more finding his eyes locked on Bilbo’s, rather unimpressed by the Hobbit. The creature was small, unassuming, pudgy, and looked as though he’d rather hide under his covers than help him reclaim his birthright. 

Thorin sneered, not even bothering to try and cover his contempt, “He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.” 

The others nodded in agreement, all except for Kili, Fili, and Bofur. Bilbo still would not forgive them all, for conspiring against him and holding this pow-wow in his dorm room, the point of which he still wasn’t sure of. He’d been quickly filled in on the story of Smaug, but with little detail and no elaboration. 

“Wait, wait, wait.” Bilbo huffed, standing quickly to his feet and moving to the middle of the room, standing before Thorin and Gandalf. The crowd around the room stilled, their eyes locking on him as he dared confront their leader. They were all very nervous about the Durin boy’s choice in burglar, and they were all inclined to agree with Thorin. 

“What does this all have to do with me?” Bilbo started, shifting nervously on the carpet once he realized that Thorin’s full attention was on him now, “Why me?” 

“Because you, my good sir, are currently the only Hobbit attending Erebor University.” Gandalf leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. It was truly the first time that Bilbo had gotten a good look at the old man, shocking him at how old the wizard was. He held immense wisdom, that much was obvious, but his eyes held back none of his hope. Gandalf continued to survey Bilbo with no ounce of fear, “We had to make sure that you were capable, though, that you would agree.”

“That’s what Kili and I did.” Fili smiled sheepishly, looking up at Bilbo from where he was seated at his brother’s feet. He gulped, quickly gathering himself, “Don’t get us wrong, we initially just wanted to be your friends. But when we figured out that you were _the_ Hobbit, the only Hobbit attending Erebor, we had to make sure you could help us.” 

“And you _can!”_ Kili shouted, quick to reassure Bilbo, “you can be our burglar!” 

Bilbo held up a hand to ensure that the brothers wouldn’t interrupt him again, his eyes shifting from Gandalf to Thorin, “That still doesn’t explain to me why I need to be your...burglar?”

“Erebor University has a Dean Internship.” Gandalf answered once more, “Every year, a representative is chosen from each species of creature attending the university, to work personally with the dean and staff. For two months, you will be in contact with Smaug, work with Smaug, and most of all, get close to Smaug.” 

Well, Bilbo wasn’t looking forward to _any_ of those things. 

“Smaug has an intricate system of people working for him, he has dealings in the black market, followers in the mob.” Balin spoke up for the others when they stilled at the positively _sick_ look on Bilbo’s face. Balin had been there when Erebor had been taken down, he’d been the right-hand-man of Thror, and had been distraught when the kingdom had fallen. He’d seen a great man fall that day in the War of Moria, “we can’t get past all those people. We’ve tried, we’ve lost many men. Every time we try and get close, Smaug uses his connections and pushes us three steps backwards. We need an unassuming-”

“Small!” Cried Gloin. 

“Invisible!” Cried Nori. 

“Microscopic!” Cried Dori. 

“Me?” Bilbo ground out, oh so pleased to hear how this group of people thought of him. If one more person yelled out another adjective, screw the consequences, they’d be booted out of here faster then they could get to their feet. 

“You.” Balin smiled fondly, sighing and letting his shoulders sag, “We need you, Bilbo. You’re our only chance.” 

At this final word, the room went silent. It was an uncomfortable silence, the impending situation lying heavily on everyone’s shoulders. This was Thorin’s _legacy_ , he was to inherit the mountain and everything that came with it. The university had been under the tyrannical rule of Smaug for too long, but these few dwarves were the only ones brave enough to try and stand up to such a man. His power was even greater than words could do justice to, but if they could find _something,_ that undeniable proof of all his crimes.... they could put him away for life. 

Thorin stood, his might towering over Bilbo once more, stepping in close to the Hobbit and peering down at him, “You may be the only Hobbit, and my nephews may say you have what it takes, but that does not mean you are correct for the job. We do not need a burglar who will flounder about like a fish.” 

“Flounder!?” Bilbo huffed, his face growing red at the accusation, his hands tightening into fists. He poked Thorin in the chest, hard, his voice suddenly confident in his laughable attempt to confront the dwarf, “Who are you to come in here and insult me? This is _my_ dorm, and you are _not_ welcome to barge in here like you own the place! You have no right to demand _anything_ of me, Mister Oakenshield!” 

A long, pregnant silence ensued, leaving all those in the room in a state of shock. There was nary a sound, nary a breath, not even a look as all the eyes were trained on either Bilbo or the king, wondering what calamity would fall. No one had spoken to Thorin in such a way, not in a long while. 

They weren’t sure which of Bilbo’s bones he would break first, but they were willing to bet his neck would be at the top of that list. 

But instead, he shocked them all when a small smirk flitted to his lips. He gave a look back towards Balin as he took a seat once more, nodding his head in Bilbo’s direction pointedly, “Give him the contract.”

The sudden cheer of excitement was what made Bilbo jump nearly out of his skin, Kili and Fili jumping into the air and shouting. Bilbo was half tempted to dive under a bed or something similar, as he didn’t want to be caught in their spinning grasps again. The Durin boys were like octopi, wiggling around and grabbing anything within their grasp. 

“C-contract?” Bilbo gulped, not given a second thought as a long roll of paper was shoved into his hands by the elder Dwarf. It looked as if it had been drug through the ringer, crumpled and old. When he slowly started to unroll the scroll-like document, he felt the reality of the situation fully sinking in, when the words of the scroll were revealed. 

“ Terms of conduct, summary statement, funeral arrangements; the works.” Balin explained shortly, tilting his head in the direction of the contract. It shook in Bilbo’s hands, at the mere mention of the words ‘funeral arrangements’, his face pale. 

What on _earth_ was he getting himself into? How could a _internship_ lead to the need for _funeral arrangements?_

Quickly spreading the contract in his palms, Bilbo took a few steps back and took the words in by himself. He could find nary an area where there was no dwarf trying to peek over his shoulder, so he scuttled over to where Bofur still stood against the wall. He pressed his back against the wall and continued to murmur to himself as he read, “...up to but not exceeding one fourteenth total profit if any...” 

Bofur laughed at this, leaning against Bilbo’s side to get a better look at the contract, his furred hat curling around Bilbo’s chin as he did so. 

Bilbo scoffed, laughing as the hat tickled his neck, trying to push the other away, “Bofur! Get off!” 

The dwarf merely laughed, nudging his head further under Bilbo’s chin to see the contract better. He mused as he read it, “present company shall not be liable for...”

“Laceration?” Bilbo cried, stepping around Bofur and shifting to the middle of the room, his voice rising an octave as he continued to read. What _was_ all this? Did he really agree to this? Never in their conversation did he agree to _anything,_ and yet here he was, reading a contract with Kili and Fili doing a jig across his carpet. 

“I..I...I didn’t agree to any of this.” Bilbo murmured, the severity of the situation rolling over him. What was going to happen where the company wouldn’t be liable for _incineration?_

“Ah...” Bilbo could feel it growing in the pit of his stomach. He had felt it before, on many a stressful situation. Gulping just a bit, he took a deep breath. 

“Yup.” Nodding more to himself, he barely had time to utter another syllable before he was falling backwards, his world going completely black. 

 

\------ 

 

It was to the press of a cool damp cloth against his cheek that Bilbo finally came to awareness, his head pounding something awful. His ears rung, and he could faintly feel a warm weight against his legs and stomach. He was in his bed, under the warmth of the comforter, save and secure. 

Letting out a brief breath of air, Bilbo chanced to open his eyes, blinking rapidly as he grew accustomed to the artificial light. More than that, he trained his eyes on the curled braids coming from under that familiar hat, the friendly eyes masked in concern. Bilbo couldn’t hold back a chuckle, humming in appreciation as Bofur ran the cloth over his forehead, “I passed out again, didn’t I?” 

“That you did.” Bofur’s words were curt, but soft, holding an edge of worry as he continued to pamper the Hobbit. With a sigh, he finally drew his hand back, “You okay?” 

“Okay as I’ll ever be.” Bilbo sighed, reaching up slowly to rest his wrist against his forehead, closing his eyes for just a moment before regarding Bofur again, “Thank you.” 

“There’s nothing to thank.” Bofur was cross with himself, figure tensing as he sat on the edge of Bilbo’s bed, his hand tight against the cloth he held, “I should have stopped this before it even started. You can’t do this, you can’t take this risk to get back Erebor.” 

Bilbo turned his head to the side, glancing around the room to see it was miraculously clean, every stray crumb and loose napkin thrown away and every inch of the carpet clean. Bofur and Bilbo were alone in the room, but there was a stray piece of yellow lined paper perched on Bilbo’s dresser, and he had a feeling he knew exactly who it was from. 

The decision was still whirring in his mind, even as he rose to lean against the headboard. 

He could see the contract lying inconspicuously on the top of the television. 

“Bofur...what would you do?” Bilbo asked slowly, raising his brows in hope. He’d never been so conflicted, not even with his decision to come half way across the country to Erebor University. The room was chill around him, his skin raising in the cold, his eyes withdrawn. 

The hatted man sighed affectionately, reaching out to tussle Bilbo’s hair, before standing to his feet. Groaning as he stretched, his back popped a few times. It was late, and he’d wanted nothing more than for Bilbo to stay asleep, so they could deal with this all tomorrow, but it was just fate that made Bilbo wake up minutes before Bofur himself was to turn down for the night. 

“You’re my best friend, Bilbo.” Bofur glanced back over his shoulder, offering a small smile, before reaching up and dragging his hat off his head and setting it on his dresser, “you always have been. But....this is not my decision to make. You have my opinion on the matter, but it’s up to you now.” 

With that, Bofur pulled back the duvet on his bed and clicked off his light. 

The single lamp on Bilbo’s dresser filled the room with little light, the artificial glow gleaming off the television and illuminating his reflection in the screen. He felt so small, _looked_ so small in that huge dwarven bed. What on earth could he offer these Dwarves? He was just a simple Hobbit, so small and humble. 

He tried to be courteous, kind, and polite to those around him. He was good at being inconspicuous. He was nothing, really. He wasn’t the adventuring type, and he’d already filled his quota with coming to this strange land for college. 

Reaching up to turn off his own light, ready to sleep this whole thing away and forget out it. Just as he was reaching for the switch, his wrist brushed against the yellow paper, letting it fall into his lap. 

Folding it open slowly, he couldn’t help the small huff of laughter that escaped him, as he saw yet again the crudely drawn figures of Kili and Fili. There was a mess of messages written on the small paper, most of them wishing him well and hoping to see him tomorrow. 

Upon further inspection, he saw elegant writing upon the backside, curved and more beautiful that even a hobbit could produce. It was obviously the wizards, his curvature and lettering beautiful even upon the yellow paper. 

‘ _Some believe it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found. I found it is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay... small acts of kindness and love.’_

He quickly folded the paper, pressing his knuckles harshly against his lips. 

Was he up for another adventure? Was he ready for what these dwarves were going to put on his shoulders, the intense magnitude of what they were asking of him?

Bilbo was shocked to find he’d known the answer all along. 

 

\------

 

“No, no, no, you see.” Kili leaned forward, pressing his finger harshly against the application form splayed in front of him, “ _I’ll_ be John Mitchell. _You’ll_ be Chris. It’s the perfect plan!” 

Fili glanced at the form his brother was filling out, raising a brow, “But they’ll ask you for an interview, everyone knows your face.” 

“I can grease my hair back or something. You know chicks dig that whole dark brooding type.” Kili waggled his brows, smirking wickedly as he gazed at his brother. 

Fili groaned again, flopping forward and landing his head on the table, “Just because you put a fake name on an application and push back your hair doesn’t mean people won’t know it’s _you.”_

“But do people know of angsty heart-throb John Mitchell? I think _not._ ” Kili stated triumphantly, hunching over to continue working on his application, filling in completely random information. 

Merely sighing, Fili perched his chin in his palm and swept his gaze out the window. They were currently in the living room of the house they shared with Thorin, having been collected here with the rest of the group to further their plans. It had been with a deep wave of uncertainty that they left Bilbo’s dorm last night, seeing as it hadn’t ended quite as well as they’d hoped. They’d fully been expecting Bilbo to accept and jump for joy, much like Kili and himself did, but they’d been completely unprepared for the near nose-dive the Hobbit took. 

They’d been promptly thrown out by Bofur, the usually kind and joyful dwarf’s face taught in concern and barely restrained anger. He hadn’t said a word, merely slammed the door. 

Two mugs appeared in front of them, steaming from warmth, as they were placed upon the table. A soft chuckle met their argument beforehand, and Thorin’s deep voice broke through their concentration, “Having a fun time?”

“Just perfecting my persona.” Kili answered with one hundred percent seriousness, his brows knit as he pulled over another blank piece of paper, starting to brainstorm possibilities for his fake resume. 

Fili hummed in appreciation as he brought the mug to his lips, smiling as he tasted chocolate. If there was one thing that remained a constant in their house, it was that Thorin always served them hot chocolate, despite their age. Thorin would always see them as the younglings that enjoyed hot chocolate and cookies. 

Not that they still didn’t, Fili noted with particular amusement as he saw Kili look up and give a squeak of excitement, bringing forward the mug to happily sip at. 

Thorin barely let a smile past as he watched the two boys, but it grew no larger. Thorin had invited the rest of the company here to continue their planning. They needed to find a way to regain Erebor, and quickly. They were in no position to scuffle their feet or dawdle, and just the thought of bringing that Hobbit in was ludicrous. 

The tiny thing had even _fainted._ There was no way a creature such as that one could ever be of help to them, no mind the internship or anything else. The Hobbit would have probably messed it up anyway, shown to Smaug that he wasn’t a serious candidate, or revealed their plan before they even got their feet of the ground. 

Sneering to himself at the pang of _something_ in his chest at the thought of the Hobbit, Thorin slowly brought his mug to his lips as he sent one more look at the boys, before turning around and crossing out of the room and into the hallway. The house was warm in the afternoon air, enough so that they could keep the windows open for the breeze, leaving a warm glow in the air. It was comfortable, but Thorin took little happiness from it. 

He was barely crossing the hardwood to enter into the living room, when he heard a small knock at the front door down the hallway. It was small, subtle, and Thorin wasn’t even positive if there _had_ been a sound. He was proven wrong when Fili took a large sip of his drink before standing slowly to his feet, yawning as he made his way to the front door to answer it. 

The boy’s back disappeared around the turn of the hallway leading to the front door. Curiosity got the better of him as he awaited whoever was at the door, slowly nursing his coffee. 

There was a flurry of hurried steps, and before Thorin could even think twice, there was a small halfling at his feet and a contract under his nose. 

“I signed it.” 

Thorin had enough dignity not to splutter, humming around his mug and lowering it as he regarded the Hobbit with an indifferent air. He was very surprised, to say the least, but let none of his astonishment show physically. 

The Hobbit, Thorin remembered his name to be Bilbo, stood there with pride, his eyes glowing in concentration as he held his gaze. There was no fear in those eyes, but a substantial amount of indignation, and was that....excitement?

Thorin tilted his head to the side and slowly reached up to grab the contract, bringing it up close to his eye to glare down at the writing. It was broad and confident, Bilbo’s signature, but as Thorin continued to decipher the writing, the Hobbit looked less so. The longer Thorin took to answer, the less certain the Hobbit became. 

The contract was signed; they had their Hobbit, their fourteenth member, their burglar. Thorin couldn’t stop the tendril of hope welling in his stomach, the tendril turning into a full swirl as Bilbo’s confident eyes locked on his. 

“It is done.” Thorin folded the contract easily in one hand, before turning back into his living room to meet with his company, though the conversation would be vastly different. 

There was another set of stomping steps that came up the wooden hallway up to Bilbo, and he couldn’t even prepare himself as an arm was thrown around his middle and he was swung around again. 

Fili laughed as he swung the Hobbit, moving him so that they could meet his brother in the dining area, “That was brilliant, Bilbo! You are truly something, you know that?” 

“Bilbo?” Kili’s head popped up once more, his confusion turning to excitement as he spotted their favorite Hobbit. He was on his feet in a matter of seconds, his arms outstretched to take Bilbo into them. 

Ducking behind Fili, Bilbo spun around his other side to escape another spinning hug, darting forward. He made it no more than three steps before he was caught from behind, large arms wrapping around his stomach and lifting him. He couldn’t hold back a laugh, even as Kili spun them around again. 

“I knew it!” Kili exclaimed, laughing boisterous and loud, though his voice was happier than Bilbo had ever heard it, “I knew you’d come back, Bilbo! I didn’t doubt you for a second!” 

“Yes, is that why you started filling out applications with fake personas?” Fili laughed along with them, though, his heart lifting with joy. 

They were going to get their true home back, their birthright, their _mountain._

Unbeknownst to them, the boys’ Uncle leaned against the door jam, a unhindered smile lifting on his lips. 

Though, he didn’t want to admit that he wasn’t only smiling fondly at his nephews.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone. I love all the support! Here's another chapter, hope you love it!


	4. Define 'Qualified'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo finds himself insecure, intimidated, and insulted.

“ZUMBA!” 

Bilbo was absolutely horrid at this. 

Maybe he should have figured out exactly _what_ Zumba was before he decided to take it. 

It involved a lot of shaking, twisting, and bouncing, all of which Hobbits were _definitely_ not designed to do. This was considered _dancing?_

Kili and Fili were, unsurprisingly, loving it. They had definitely chosen the correct form of physical exercise to release their pent-up energy. 

Trying to keep up with the instructor, Bilbo shook his hips awkwardly, glancing over towards the boys. They were performing every move as if they were born to do it, their hair pulled back into loose ponytails elegantly, their broad smiles lighting up the room. 

Bilbo huffed, sweat already pooling on his forehead. There were an astounding amount of things he was regretting since he started at Erebor U, and Zumba was fairly high on that list. He wasn’t even certain men were _built_ to do something like this, and certainly not Hobbits. Dwarves, Kili and Fili in particular, took to it with a passion. 

But why were they so _infuriatingly_ good at it?

The music finally came to a stop, the instructor starting the end-of-class applause, then finally dismissing them. Bilbo slumped forward, placing his hands on his knees and taking deep and shuddering breaths. 

A hand slapped on his back, and he didn’t even have the strength to jump in shock. Gulping, he wrenched his head back and sent a glare at Fili, the perpetrator, “How on earth you two can stay moving the entire class astounds me.” 

They didn’t grace him with a retort, instead standing off to the side and watching him strain. Once he was finally able to stand straight without wanting to die, he leveled them with yet another glare, this one hopefully more threatening. 

“Oh, we meant to tell you.” Fili fell into step beside Kili and Bilbo, trapping the small Hobbit between them as they made their way to the locker room, “Your interview for the internship is tomorrow at five. We’ll all take you there so we can talk about what you’re going to say.” 

Bilbo gulped, his hands freezing, feet almost stumbling on the ground at the news, “What? I had no knowledge of this!”

“Don’t worry, it’s not with Smaug.” Kili slapped him on the back, his enthusiasm and energy still at astronomical levels despite his workout, “It’s with his secretary. And it’s not like they can say no, you’re the only Hobbit.”

“Legally, they _have_ to accept you.” Fili shrugged, taking a long drink of his water bottle as they finally entered the men’s locker room, heading to their lockers deep in the back, “You could go in there and speak in tongues and they’d treat you like you could create gold with your bare hands.” 

“Which would be totally _awesome._ ” Kili added, throwing open his locker and swiftly taking off his shirt, throwing it in and doing the same with his pants. 

Bilbo was a bit slower in the process, his mind still running wild with the information that he’d being starting this whole adventure _tomorrow._ Glancing over at the boys, he was about to question once more about the plan, how thought out it was, and if they weren’t just throwing him to the wind on this one chance, but was stopped suddenly. 

And just as quickly as the thought of the internship left his brain, a mind-numbing insecurity took it’s place. 

He had to admit, Kili and Fili weren’t unattractive. That, in fact, was a horrid understatement, as Bilbo couldn’t get his eyes off the boys’ toned stomachs and thick arms. Being a Hobbit, Bilbo himself was rather round in the midsection, not having any muscles worth mentioning. Watching the brothers in Zumba class had been infuriating, but this was just ridiculous. Never had Bilbo ever had the need to be self conscious about his weight, his physique, or his stature, but standing next to these two, he felt terribly inferior. 

What possible use could all these dwarves have in a Hobbit? 

Taking off his own shirt, Bilbo gulped nervously, trying to keep his bundle of clothing in front of himself to cover his stomach. His face was aflame as he did so, hastily attempting to put in his locker combination with one hand. 

“Look at the thing.” A voice sounded behind Bilbo, deep and intimidating, “He’s practically obtuse.” 

He wished nothing more than for the ground to open up and eat him. Hobbit’s weren’t the friendliest group to outsiders, but as a Hobbit himself, he’d never been teased before in his life. He’d never been the brunt of a joke or the subject of mockery, and it was something he’d rather avoid if possible. 

“Why do you think they allow this Halfling to take Phys Ed classes?” The same voices bickered back and forth, a deep undertone of mockery, not even bothering to lower their voices so they remained hidden, “He’s so short and fat. Plus, he’d probably trip over those flippers if he tried to play any real sport.” 

Glancing down at his feet, Bilbo gulped as he wiggled his toes ashamedly. His feet weren’t _that_ big, were they? He was about to let himself fall into a deep pit of embarrassment and a tinge of sadness, when there was two strong figures on either side of him, burning with rage. 

“What did you say?” Kili didn’t hesitate as he placed himself in front of Bilbo, “You wanna say that again?” 

“What?” One of the men stood forward, towering over Kili and glaring down at him, his brows raised in amusement, “You wanna stand up for this _halfling?_ You, Oakenshield?”

“Yeah, we do.” Fili’s body joined his brother’s, effectively hiding Bilbo behind their combined shoulders, “Now back up.” 

“Oh, wow.” The man laughed, joined by his friends for a short moment, before resting his gaze on the short dwarves, “You know, I hear the Oakenshield’s use daddy’s money to get around, pay off all the teachers, get what you need by any way necessary. You think you’re all so _special.”_

He sneered, his eyes glowing as he leaned in on them, “You know, I also hear that the Oakenshield’s have a ... _different_ method of getting what they want. How about I take you two into the showers and test the theory?” 

“Fuck you!” Fili shouted out, his teeth clenching as he stepped forward, inadvertently covering his brother as well as the Hobbit. His rage was bowling over like water, and even from his position, Bilbo could tell the taunters were standing on thin water. Fili was wound tight as a bow string, and Bilbo knew he was soon going to snap. 

The man didn’t see the rage in Fili’s eyes, as he leaned forward with his brows dangerously low, “That’s precisely what I was thinking.” 

Bilbo barely had time to push himself up against the lockers as the brothers attacked, launching themselves at the attackers. Hunkering down on the bench, Bilbo raised his arms to curl them over his head, wincing at every punch he heard, every grunt, every scream or threat. He wasn’t one for violence, so he couldn’t even bring himself to look up. 

What on _middle earth_ had those guys been talking about? They couldn’t possibly... Fili and Kili would never do anything like that! Those bullies had been just that - bullies, but the brothers had reacted so violently. The others’ words had struck something within the Oakenshields, a sensitive nerve. 

“Yeah, you fucking run!” 

Bilbo finally managed to peek over his fingers when he heard the scuffle finally stop, seeing the bullies hi-tail it out of the locker room, at least two of them sporting a black eye and a bloody nose. Kili and Fili were breathing deep, their poses still defensive as they held their bruised bodies taught. 

Torn between being impressed and astounded, Bilbo slowly lowered himself to the ground. The two dwarves had just taken on _three_ humans and sent them running. Erring on the side of impressed, Bilbo gulped and slid his feet across the linoleum, wondering if it was safe to approach the two. Inching forward, he gently and shakily reached out his hand, placing it softly on Kili’s shoulder, almost anticipating a violent reaction. 

Instead, the tension fled from Kili’s body, his head slumping forward as he took a deep and shaky breath. He barely ticked his head to the side, peeking out from under his bangs to glance at Bilbo, a sad smile creasing his face. He looked torn and distraught, nothing of the usual happy face Bilbo was so accustomed to seeing, “I’m really sorry you had to see that.” 

Bilbo ignored the comment, shaking his head and bringing himself closer to the two. His eyes swiftly raking over their forms, he furrowed his brow in worry, “Are you guys okay? That was some scuffle.” 

Fili laughed, bringing his hand up and rubbing it violently over his face, drawing with it a wince and a small amount of blood from his lip, “We’re fine. Not like we haven’t been in a fight before.” 

“That’s comforting.” Bilbo huffed, reaching up and gently pressing his fingers against a rough bruise already growing at the corner of Kili’s eye, “You two; I don’t know if I should clock you one or hug you.” 

“I’d prefer the hug, but it’s up to you.” Kili winced, trying to offer Bilbo a smile, but failing as he winced instead. He looked rather pathetic, obviously off-put by the whole experience. Bilbo laughed, shaking his head and moving to wrap his arms around the Dwarf. 

Kili froze at the unexpected embrace, his arms frozen above Bilbo’s back. He had a whole array of scenarios going through his mind at how their little Hobbit would react. He never assumed Bilbo would react badly to the rumors, to what the others said about them, but he never imagined Bilbo would simply shrug it off and _hug_ him. The small body was warm against him, holding him softly and carefully, making him feel more comfortable than he had in years. This Hobbit was full of mysteries. 

“I don’t know why those guys are saying what they did.” Bilbo pursed his lips as he pulled away from the other, keeping a single arm wrapped around Kili’s back, “But you are definitely _not...”_ He coughed, face lighting in a flush as he remembered just what the others were insinuating about the Oakenshield brothers, “Definitely not _that.”_

The brothers merely laughed, both of them simultaneously reaching to ruffle his hair happily, joyously smiling as Fili darted forward for his turn at a hug.

 

\--------- 

 

It was times like these that Bilbo tried to take deep breaths, gather himself, and try not to panic. 

But it was so hard to keep his cool when Thorin Oakenshield was staring down at him like he were an insect. And Bilbo almost wished he _were_ one, if that meant he could fly away and hide from those piercing blue eyes. 

“Pray tell, _what_ are my nephews doing in your dorm room, _bruised_ and _bloody?”_ His voice was like a thousand knives, all aiming for the vital points on Bilbo’s body. If they had been somewhere secluded, Bilbo may have feared for his life. He still did, but the calming presence of Bofur to his side made the fear diminish just slightly. 

Bilbo laughed nervously, “It’s actually a funny story.” 

“ _Funny?_ ” Thorin took a dominant step forward, his eyes shifting from the small Hobbit in front of him to his two precious nephews currently passed out on Bilbo’s bed, “Please explain, _halfling,_ how something like this could be _funny.”_

Maybe Bilbo _shouldn’t_ have had the boy’s call their uncle for a ride.

“Okay, so.” Bilbo tried to ignore the ‘halfling’ comment, but it still made his shoulders droop slightly and his feet unconsciously shuffle closer to Bofur, “Well, we were in Zumba class, that’s the funny part. Because you’re nephews are ridiculously good at it. Like, weirdly good. They kept trying to say that they’d never done it before, but I highly doubt that-” 

Bilbo squeaked as a hand landed harshly on the doorframe near his head, making a loud bang through the hallway and into the room. Bofur immensely wanted to interfere and step between Bilbo and Thorin, not liking at all the way the man was looking at Bilbo. But this was Thorin Oakenshield, and despite all things, he was their leader. He had the utmost respect for Thorin, and wouldn’t go against him. 

But this was _Bilbo._ And if Thorin dared to actually lay a _hand_ on the Hobbit, leadership and respect be _damned._

“W-well.” Bilbo cut off his rambling and cleared his throat, nodding and nervously trying to speed up the story, “We were in the locker room to change into our real clothes and some guys came up. They started...to...”

Bilbo didn’t really want to replay _that_ part. Maybe he could just skip over it? Thorin didn’t really need the reminder of how short and small and fat and weak and....oh, dear. The bullies sure did have a lot of ammunition. 

“Tell me all of it.” Thorin demanded, not daring yet to enter the Hobbit’s home in fear that he’d break something upon entering. His nephews were too blind and too trusting, but the Hobbit had done _something_ to get them this roughed up. Weren’t Hobbits supposed to be dependable? 

Coughing again, Bilbo nodded, “Some guys, they started to...well, _taunt_ me. They were just saying a few things here and there, and Kili and Fili stepped in to get them to stop. Some things were said and all of a sudden there was a fight.”

 Thorin knew all to well about the rumors, as they had started from the very moment Smaug overtook Erebor. He’d taken the full brunt of the humiliation during his time at the University, and he’d worried about his nephews ever since they stepped on campus. 

“B-but...” Bilbo gulped, smiling softly at the memory, “They were very brave to defend me, it wasn’t something they had to do.” 

“No, it wasn’t.” Thorin felt his anger had abated enough to the point where he could enter, and he did so. There was no threat that he’d break something in his rage, as he had calmed at the mention of his nephews silly heroism. He didn’t like to think that there were racist bigots within the walls of Erebor, but it was out of his control, at least until he reclaimed his home. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Thorin let out a soft sigh as he finally looked upon his nephews. They looked so young, curled up with each other, breathing soundly in a soft sleep. It wasn’t like they hadn’t gotten into scrapes before, heavens knew there must’ve been hundreds Thorin hadn’t even known about, but that didn’t mean his heart didn’t pang with worry at the look of fresh bruises upon their skin. 

“Here.” 

Thorin glanced over, spying the large steaming mug of coffee presented before him. It was a courteous move, and while he still didn’t think highly of the Hobbit (seeing what he’d done to his nephews), but he was in Bilbo’s home. So he took the coffee, reluctantly, and had a hesitant sip. 

And he’d be damned if it wasn’t the most delicious coffee he’d ever had. 

“I’ll go grab us something to eat.” Bilbo murmured nervously, wracking his mind to try to come up with different things that might appease Thorin. Food appeased a lot of people, so maybe he could get on Thorin’s good side, “They’re welcome to stay here as long as they want.” 

“We don’t need your sympathy.” Thorin ground, setting the coffee on the dresser and turning back to his nephews. He didn’t know what it was about the Hobbit that irked him so, maybe his nervous tick. Even the small actions that Bilbo took to make them feel comfortable or offer them hospitality made something uncomfortable curl in his gut. He assumed it was anger, for that was the only thing it could be.

Bilbo huffed, rolling his eyes and perching his hands on his hips, “I’m not offering you sympathy, Mr. Oakenshield, I’m offering you food. You have to earn my sympathy.” 

Looking back at the Hobbit, Thorin leveled the other with a look of complete disinterest. This halfling was nothing that Thorin had ever seen. He was shy, but kind, and when he got something under his skin, he could stand up for himself rather well. As well as a Hobbit could, anyway, as Thorin was fairly positive if Bilbo ever even tried to hold a sword, it’d be disastrous. 

“Now.” Bilbo crossed his arms tightly over his chest, losing just a bit of his initial fervor, “I do believe a ‘thank you’ is in order, but I doubt you’ll give it. I assume you’ll be wanting something as well?” 

Thorin was shocked beyond words. He didn’t know if he should feel angry or something else entirely. Surely, the first thing on the Hobbit’s mind, after a near-stranger just barged in and insulted him, wasn’t to offer said stranger food? Hobbits were strange creatures, but surely they weren’t _this_ strange. They’d be extinct if they were as defenseless and hospitable as Mr. Baggins here. 

Bilbo, taking the king’s silence as an affirmative, nodded to himself and snatched his jacket off Bofur’s bed. Saying a quick word with a pat to Bofur’s arm, he made his exit a bit quicker than he usually would have. The offer of food was only half due to his intense desire to get out of his dorm room, as Thorin was extremely intimidating, but he couldn’t deny that he was starving. 

Watching the door shut slowly, Thorin absently reached up, taking the mug off the dresser and taking another long draw at the coffee. Damn, this stuff was good. 

“He’s a good person.” 

Thorin dragged away from his coffee long enough to glance at the other occupant of the room. He’d met Bofur a few times, spoken to him even less, but he knew this man was dependable. He was part of their group and respected him, but he could tell the other wasn’t too pleased. 

Bofur caught his eyes and sighed, “He’s a really good person.”

And, despite all things, Thorin believed him.

Because later, when Bilbo had finally made it back and his nephews had woken up, when he saw them drag the Hobbit between them and laugh, happier than he’d seen in so long...he couldn’t find anything wrong with the Hobbit.

 

 -------------

 

“Mr.Baggins?” 

Bilbo was up on his feet in a matter of seconds, nervously pulling at the bottom of his shirt and scuttling after the secretary. He had been in the waiting room for thirty minutes, which happened to be some of the worst minutes of his entire life. Surrounded by men, elves, and dwarves, all of whom seemed to have gotten the memo that he was the _only_ Hobbit, so he was automatically accepted into the Intern program. He’d been the brunt of their glares and ill-thoughts for the entirety of those thirty minutes, and it was such an experience that he’d never even wish upon his worst enemy. 

He was quickly ushered into a small office, plainly decorated with a potted plant here and there. It was almost ethereal, as the walls were a stark white, but there was a deep green to the carpet, and a soft edge to all the furniture. 

Bilbo gulped nervously as he took the seat in front of the desk, just barely glancing at the name presented on a small slat on the desk, but didn’t trust himself to try to pronounce it. 

“Mr. Baggins, is it?” The voice was as soft as air yet as dominant as a flame, and as the man spun around in his seat to finally face Bilbo, the Hobbit truly wanted to sink into his seat. 

This ‘Thranduil’ was terrifying!

The large and pale elf tilted his head to the side as he stared down at Bilbo, showing little to no emotion, “Pleasure to meet you.” 

“Pleasure is all mine.” Bilbo gulped, offering a small smile, though he wasn’t sure it was as confident as he wanted, “Mr.Thr...Thrand...” 

“Thranduil.” He offered with a lilt of his lips, before then tilting his head down to glance at the papers in his hands. He seemed to ponder them for a moment, double checking a few things and lifting up the paper to read under it. 

“I do say, you are the least qualified applicant who has ever applied to this internship.” 

Bilbo coughed, nearly choking on the air he was trying to breathe, bringing his hand up press against his lips as he fought not to cough even more, his face alighting in a flush. 

“No work experience in Dale, no higher learning other than the single week you’ve attended Erebor University, and no other internship or volunteer experience.” Thranduil flipped through the papers once more, of which Bilbo assumed was his resume and cover letter, “Your references are Gandalf, who is ineligible to offer reference due to his being on the school board; Your cousin Drogo, who is ineligible to offer reference due to his being family; and your high school culinary professor, who is eligible to offer reference, but failed to do so seeing as he has recently been _incarcerated._ ”

Well, it _definitely_ wasn’t Bilbo’s fault that Mr. Radagast had gotten arrested. 

“Please, do tell me, what possible reason could you have for applying for this internship?” Thranduil let the papers fall back to the desk, resuming his unamused glare at Bilbo’s forehead, “Don’t worry about the answer, I have to accept you into this internship, as unqualified as you may be.”

“I just want to learn.” Bilbo began quickly, finding his tongue and scrambling to come up with the best possible answer that wouldn’t completely foil the plans before they’d even officially begun, “I was looking at internships, and I saw this one. I know that I am horribly under qualified, but I felt that if I was accepted, I could prove myself and live up to the situation. 

“Well, that was foolish.” 

Bilbo wanted to deck him, but knew that this elf could break him in half with a pinky finger. That image alone was enough to make Bilbo somberly sulk back in his chair. 

A retort ready on his tongue, a particularly witty comeback if he did say so himself, when he was interrupted by a positively evil slither of air going through the room. It made his toes curl, his hair stand on end, and his earlier desire to curl into himself magnify tenfold. 

Bilbo couldn’t bring his eyes to glance up at the soft tromp of feet that entered behind Thranduil’s desk, he merely gulped and willed himself to stay calm, and not faint again. Heavens knows what would happen then. 

Thranduil didn’t seemed perturbed in the slightest, merely swiveling his chair to the side and dipping his head in greeting to the man who had inaudibly entered, “Greetings, sir.” 

“I’ve just come to glance over the applicants.” 

Bilbo gulped, finally finding the courage to glance up at the man, his eyes widening as he drew his gaze up the tall, thin figure, to his pale face. Bilbo knew immediately who it was, for the man was absolutely terrifying, his lips pursed in a smirk. Spots of red scales graced his high cheek bones, his eyes a deep orange, framed by dark and swirling hair. 

This was Smaug.

The man’s smirk grew, tilting his head as he continued further into the room, “So, this is the Hobbit I’ve been hearing so much about?” 

His voice was insanely deep, almost gravely, slow, and methodical.

Bilbo was instantly on his feet, afraid to move any closer, but showing enough courtesy to not sit there like a fool. He offered his hand quickly, trying to not be excessively intimidated by the man. It was a hard thing to do, considering all he heard from the brothers and Thorin, and not to mention the man was probably one of the single most frightening and overpowering men Bilbo had ever met. Bilbo could also ad that he barely came up to the man’s hips, but just thinking about _that_ made Bilbo woozy all over again. 

“Bilbo Baggins, at your service.” He tilted his head politely, but was painfully aware of how his hand shook. 

Smaug strolled forward, bemusedly looking down at the Hobbit, taking his hand slowly and powerfully, “I am Smaug, Dean of Erebor. Pleased to meet you.” 

Bilbo gulped. He mentally made a note to smack Kili upside the head, for getting his hopes up that he _wouldn’t_ be meeting this man today. Just seeing him was something that he needed to be mentally prepared for, but when that hand encased his and burned like a furnace, he feared he was going to need therapy. 

Then, as quickly and as silently as he’d entered the room, Smaug stood beside him, his mere presence making Bilbo’s blood turn to ice. When he placed a single hand on Bilbo’s back, just over his shoulder blades, Bilbo tried to focus on anything but the sheer size of Smaug’s hand, and the burning heat it produced. Bilbo watched with wide eyes as Smaug dipped down to just near Bilbo’s ear, his breath even hotter than his hand as it wafted over his cheeks, “I do hope I’ll be seeing more of you, Mr. Baggins. You seem quite...interesting.”

He let his fingers linger on Bilbo’s back for a second more, before drawing them away, leaving the room like a breeze. The man’s presence had filled the room so completely, Bilbo hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath, as he shakily filled his lungs once more. 

“Be here on the morning of September the first, at seven o’ clock sharp.” Thranduil didn’t bother to make Bilbo sit again, for he had already deemed the interview pointless, “New intern orientation begins at seven thirty, and we’ll be appointing you your station under Smaug, and your duties. Have the secretary send in the next applicant on your way out.” 

It was with a nod and a small ‘thank you’, that Bilbo found himself standing outside the office, wondering _what on earth_ had just happened. 

He was out of the building in a matter of seconds, and even quicker than that, he had a pair of brothers flanking him on either side and a very worried Bofur standing in front of him. Be it because they could see his frightened expression or his sweating brow, none of them said a word. Bofur took his shoulders carefully with both hands, as if treading on thin-ice, and each brother carefully slid their palms into his.

Usually he would have hated being treated so softly, but right now, he soaked it in. He was pleased beyond belief that the three had come with him to the internship. 

“What...” Kili leaned forward, his expression confused, “What the hell happened in there? Did you not say what we planned?” 

“I didn’t exactly get a chance to.” Bilbo gulped, and despite his earlier intent to knock the Durin a good one, he found he didn’t even have the energy to do that. Lowering his gaze to Kili, he let out a shaky laugh, “You said I _wouldn’t_ be meeting Smaug.” 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how I felt about this chapter. I didn't initially go into this intending the relationship between Bilbo and Thorin to be so slow, but that's just how it panned out.


	5. Interview With the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo finds that Smaug was increasingly more terrifying than he had originally thought. He only wished he could come out of this whole thing unscathed.

When Thorin entered his home that evening after a particularly trying day of work, all he wanted to do was grab a beer and watch television for the better part of the next three to four hours. The rest of the company was coming over at eleven, Hobbit included, to go over the details of the internship and form a plan of action for the next couple of weeks. None of them knew exactly how close Bilbo would be getting to Smaug, so they needed to formulate a plan based on where Bilbo was station. 

But - when Thorin did close the door to his house and heave a sigh of relief, his relief was short lived, as he heard a bustle of commotion coming from the kitchen. A tick of annoyance grew on his brow as he distinctly heard his nephew’s voices, and knew that they _had_ to be the reasons for such a commotion. Hopefully Thorin could run in, grab a beer (or five) from the fridge, and hi-tail it out of there before the boys caught his scent. 

He didn’t even make it to the kitchen. 

A brunette head of hair popped over the doorframe leading to the dining room, Kili’s brows knit together in worry until he spotted his uncle’s face, before his eyes widened in realization, “Uncle!” 

“Kili.” Thorin greeted shortly, and was about to politely incline as to what was going on, when his nephew darted forward quickly, wrapping a strong hand around his forearm. Be it because of Kili’s urgent look or the way the boy seemed particularly insistent, but Thorin made no move to continue his previous plan of heaving for the TV. He knew that even if he did brush off Kili’s insistent tugs, he’d feel guilty about it later. Ugh, nephews. 

When Thorin entered the dining room, blinking at the sudden onslaught of light and commotion, he wondered absently how they had fit twelve dwarves and a wizard in his dining room. He didn’t even have the breath to get annoyed that they were three hours early. 

What did warrant his attention, above all else, was the small Hobbit that sat directly on his dining room table, comfortably in the middle. The dwarves all surrounded him, yelling and shouting, pointing and gesturing, but Thorin paid them no mind. All he could focus on was the Hobbit, and it wasn’t even the fact that Bilbo was shirtless. 

It was the solid red burn-print of a hand going down Bilbo’s shoulder blades. 

He was shocked speechless, as he often was when Bilbo was involved, his hands clenching in unwarranted fury. Concern bubbled in his stomach, but above all that, was a teeth-wrenching anger. 

“Thorin’s here!” Kili exclaimed to the room, releasing his hold on Thorin’s arm and darting over to the table where his brother sat, Fili gently applying burn-salve to Bilbo’s back. They were both distract with worry, despite Bilbo’s frantic attempts to reassure him that it didn’t hurt and that he was fine. 

The room went relatively silent, all the bantering and arguing coming to a halt for their leader, sure to be continued later. 

Slowly walking forward, Thorin took in the burn on the small Hobbit’s back, inadvertently feeling concern. It looked painful, despite what the Hobbit was saying, and might even leave a scar, despite how much work his nephews seemed to be doing to stop it. The hand print was large, most likely from a human or someone larger. 

Thorin only knew one being that could cause such a burn, who stood at such a stature. 

“Smaug did this.” 

The other shuffled in agreement, looking particularly off-put by the mere mentioning of the dragon. It must’ve been the subject of their arguments, as some of them looked particularly eager to get back to yelling and screaming. 

Thorin gently raised a hand, pressing his fingers over the edges of the burn, pulling his hand back instantly when he saw the Hobbit flinch with a small gasp. It definitely hurt, and Thorin felt the foreign emotion in his gut swirl and knot. Blinking slowly, Thorin lowered his gaze to his nephews, “How did this happen?”

“We were just taking Bilbo to his interview.” Fili answered a bit absently, nearly all his focus on gently applying salve to Bilbo’s back, as painlessly as possible, “He came out, looked freaked, and all the sudden we saw the burn on his back. Went straight through his shirt.” 

“It didn’t feel that bad at the time.” Bilbo put in, lowering his head as he hissed when Fili brushed a particularly tender spot, “Smaug interrupted my interview, saying he was surveying the applicants.” 

“Sneaky little rat.” Off to the side, Dwalin spoke with a tone thick with disgust, “Do you think he knows we’re up to something?”

“He couldn’t possibly.” Balin answered, standing forward and planting his palm flat against the table, “This was an unfortunate coincidence.” 

Kili leaned forward towards Bilbo, taking a bit of the ointment and helping his brother in the process, his usually light and happy face pursed in concern, “Are you sure it was just a coincidence? What possible use could Smaug have to hurt Bilbo so?” 

“You forget, this is _Smaug_ we’re talking about.” Balin continued, trying to ignore the uncomfortable shuffle that went through the group, “This means he’s _interested._ He’s known for being isolate, he wouldn’t touch anyone with a ten foot pole. But he seemed interested in Bilbo, he placed his whole hand on Bilbo’s back.” 

Bilbo flinched at the reminder, whimpering pitifully when Kili was too rough at one of the finger-marks. With a whispered apology, the brother continued. 

“We should continue as planned.” The others agreed with the eldest, nodding and concurring, despite their earlier disputes. 

Though, the instigator of the argument decided to step up, his hands clenched as he nearly shook at the sheer audacity of what the others were talking about. 

“Bofur...” Bilbo’s eyes widened as said dwarf stood abruptly from where he’d been seated close to Bilbo’s side, slamming his hands down on the table and sending the room into a still silence. 

“You can’t honestly be considering this, can you?” Bofur fought to keep his voice even, but it was difficult, seeing as he’d been in a particularly bad mood ever since he’d seen Bilbo exit the building earlier that day. His best friend had looked as if he had seen death itself, eyes wide and breath frantic. The brother’s had helped him console Bilbo, but when they’d shifted their hands to rub at Bilbo’s back, they had felt the large hole burnt in the Hobbit’s shirt. But it had been Bilbo’s shocked cry of pain that made Bofur see red. 

Bofur looked at them all, trying to find someone on his side, stopping particularly long on his brother and cousin, before moving to Thorin, “Smaug has _hurt_ Bilbo. We saw the danger in the situation before, and this only confirmed it. We can’t send him back there. We don’t know what Smaug’ll do next.” 

Despite their previous excitement at the Hobbit’s willingness to go along with the plan, Kili and Fili felt their shoulders inadvertently droop in agreement. They were truly torn, their eyes traveling over the Hobbit’s back with trepidation. They were fiercely loyal to their uncle, they would stand by his side through thick and thin. He was, for all intents and purposes, their father. 

But Bilbo was different. They hated seeing him hurt so. 

“You are finally close to your goal.” Gandalf spoke up for the first time that evening, looking upon Thorin with downcast eyes, leaning forward and looking very old as he rested his elbows, “I do not like the idea of putting Mr. Baggins in danger, but there is no other option. We would have to wait another year to try again.” 

“We do not have another year.” Thorin muttered angrily, his hand clenching into a fist as he took one more long glance at Bilbo’s back. His anger rose in his chest the longer he looked at it, his posture going stiff and his mind full of the creature that had taken his birthright and what was rightfully his, “We will continue.” 

Bofur looked as though he were about to argue once more, but a calming hand on his shoulder stopped him short. He swiftly brought his own hand up to cover the smaller one, looking down at Bilbo with a tight expression, his breath heaving in worry. He hated to see his friend in pain, and this whole experience was just another testament to how this was much too dangerous for their little Hobbit. 

Bilbo, on the other hand, found this all rather irritating. Sure, he was aware of the conversation going on around him, but never once did they stop to ask his opinion. _He_ was the one with the _hand print_ on his back, for goodness sakes! Bilbo tore his gaze away from Bofur before leveling it to Thorin, glaring at the back of the man’s head, “Don’t speak as if I’m not here.” 

Bofur’s hand tightened over his, and Bilbo took it as a great comfort. He could only glance over his shoulder to spy Thorin, but he kept his eyes trained, not faltering even when Thorin slowly turned to face him.

“I’m the one who had to speak with Smaug today. I’m the one you’re putting in danger.” Bilbo gulped, trying to keep his confident front, but finding it more and more difficult to do so as Thorin’s glare grew deeper with every word, “Smaug was...he was terrifying. What if I am put in more danger and then truly lost to Smaug’s will?” 

Thorin clenched his teeth at the notion, wishing more than anything else that he could be away from this conversation at that moment. He didn’t care for the Hobbit, he kept trying to tell himself, that this Hobbit was nothing more than a burden. It was hard to look at the Hobbit with anything other than contempt. 

“You’ve been lost ever since you left home.” Thorin growled, sending one more scathing glare at the Hobbit before turning and exiting the room, sending one more glance over his shoulder, “We will continue with our plans.” 

Bilbo winced, turning his eyes downcast as he clenched his hands. He truly didn’t mean to get on the other’s nerves so, but it seemed that everything he said got under Thorin’s skin. But it was true- he had been truly scared today of the man who was supposed to be a dragon. He was dominating in every sense of the word, and had looked at Bilbo like one would look at a slice of meat. 

Feeling a comforting weight on his head, Bilbo looked up towards Bofur, smiling weakly and bringing his other hand to fully incase the Dwarf’s. Bofur’s fingers gently sifted through his hair, rubbing calmingly, a motion that always succeeded in soothing Bilbo greatly. Sighing, he met Bofur’s distressed eyes, “What do you think I should do?” 

“You already asked me that question.” Bofur smiled, but it was strained, his hand tightening over Bilbo’s hands in his distress, “You already have my answer.” 

Bilbo sighed, nodding and absently leaning his head into Bofur’s hand that was still tangled in his hair, seeking out the warmth of a familiar hand. His mind was reeling, his face pinched in distress, as he thought about what to do. Thorin was _right_ , Bilbo had been lost this entire time. He was being bullied for the first time in his life, alienated in all the classes he didn’t share with Kili and Fili, and constantly double-guessing himself on this whole thing, way back to when he decided to attend Erebor U. He was grateful to have met Kili and Fili and everyone else, but in the long run, he missed the Shire. 

Maybe Thorin was right. 

“Are you alright, Bilbo?” Kili peeked over the Hobbit’s shoulder, pressing one hand calmly on his shoulder blade, careful to avoid the burn, “I didn’t press to hard? Does the salve hurt?” 

“No, it’s okay Kili,” Bilbo shook his head and glanced over his shoulder to smile sweetly down at the boy, “Just stings a little.” 

Fili pressed a gentle hand against Bilbo’s side, sighing, “are you really okay? We would understand if you wanted to back out.”

Bilbo couldn’t say that the option didn’t sound tempting. He wanted to go running home, drop out of his classes and head back to the Shire, where he could live out the rest of his days. He’d go to a small local university, perhaps major in agriculture, and live out the rest of his life in Hobbity solitude. 

But when Bofur gently continued to rub at his hair and stroke at the back of his knuckles, and he felt the boys continue to gingerly rub his back and side while applying more ointment, he knew he couldn’t leave these guys. 

“The first meeting to go over the details of the internship is on the first, that’s when we’ll figure out how close I’ll be working to Smaug.” 

 

\------- 

 

The first of September creeped up on them faster than they could imagine, barely giving them time to meet and plan out every possible scenario. During those sparse times when the company was together, all crammed yet again in Thorin’s dining room, Thorin avoided Bilbo like the plague. Their eyes never met and they never sat closer than ten feet of one another. Even turing the many times when the discussion was heated and everyone spoke, Bilbo and Thorin always found a way to never directly speak to one another. 

All Bilbo wanted was to be on the same level as those around him in Thorin’s eyes, maybe even become friends with the man. That goal seemed more and more bleak as the time went on, seeing as with every word Bilbo said, the deep and dark look on Thorin’s face grew more and more gloomy. 

Sighing, Bilbo straightened his tie, pulled at the bottom of his suit jacket, and tried not to wince when his undershirt rubbed at his still healing burn. He was only slightly bummed that no one was able to come with him this time, and he was at the faces of the enemy by his lonesome. Thorin had forbade anyone to accompany him, even to the door of the Dean’s building, for too many people waiting about the door would raise suspicions. It was plausible, but Bilbo would have at least liked _Bofur_ to come, but no, he had to hoof this one by himself. 

Stepping into the room the second time was surprisingly easier than the first, seeing as Bilbo already knew Thranduil hated him. It was a great weight off his shoulders, to not feel the anticipation and pressure to do well in this meeting, seeing as little would sway the elf’s opinion of him. He had a stable position in this internship, wether he wanted it or not, and one elf’s opinion of him would do little to change that fact. 

He just hoped to all that was above him, all that may or may not have been watching over him thus-far, all deities and lords above, that he would not see Smaug again. 

Bilbo’s hopes were dashed as soon as he stepped through the door into the meeting room. 

“Ah, Mr. Baggins.” The silky velvety voice swarmed over him like a bad winter chill, making his stomach drop down to his toes and his spine go ram-rod straight. 

The room was the simplest of conference rooms, white walls, projector set up on the ceiling, large round table in the middle with one or two other interns already seated around it. Thranduil sat at the head, tapping away quickly at his laptop, not even sparing the Hobbit a glance. 

The once large room seemed incredibly small as the looming tall figure strode towards him, the customary smirk already forming on Smaug’s lips. It was with little comfort that he didn’t try and touch Bilbo this time, instead standing close enough that his eat seemed to eat Bilbo alive. 

Leering down at the small being, Smaug tilted his head and leaned forward just a bit, “Just the Hobbit I wanted to see. Come, sit next to me.” 

Bilbo wanted to scream in agony at the heavens. What had he done in his past lives to deserve this? Just the man’s presence near him made his skin crawl with discomfort, and he was now in an almost constant state of terror that the man’s skin would somehow touch him again, burning him more than he already was. 

There was, as per the regulation of the internship, a representative of every species at Erebor U. The more humanoid species of Middle Earth were the ones that Erebor U catered to, as there were specialty colleges for Trolls and Giants. There was an elf, tall and elegant, long blonde hair flowing down his back. He had stunningly beautiful features, but soft with what Bilbo took as kindness, if the polite smile he shared with Bilbo was anything to go by. There was a Dwarf, of course, and Bilbo didn’t recognize him, but he looked crude. A human sauntered in after a moment, his looks almost regal as he held himself high, five-o-clock shadow and long unruly hair almost endearing, if Bilbo wasn’t so terrified. 

Bilbo almost thought more people would scurry in, perhaps duck their heads because the time was nearing where they’d be late, but no one further entered the room. It was the solitary four interns, the secretary, and Smaug himself. 

“Pass this around. Don’t bother introducing yourselves, I already know your names and I doubt I’ll see you enough to care after today.” Thranduil handed each of them a thick stack of stapled papers, folding his hands together afterwords, looking at each of them, “This, of course, is Dean Smaug.” 

They all dipped their heads respectively, all except for Bilbo, who was still terrified. When he’d taken his seat, Smaug had slowly sat next to him, his long legs bending under the table and his knee pressing against Bilbo’s. It was a human table, so Bilbo was having a hard time finding purchase on the chair and still managing to see over the table, none the less squirm away from Smaug’s touch. 

“Nonsense.” Smaug’s voice demanded attention, his eyes soaring over them all, before landing on Bilbo and sparking something deep, shining even more yellow then when they had first met, “Let’s all introduce ourselves. We’ll be working together for quite some time, after all. 

Thranduil couldn’t be caught sighing, but if his breath left his lungs with a bit more force this time, he couldn’t blame himself. The eccentricities of his boss were a gift and a curse, seeing as Smaug was almost as fearsome as himself, but when the large dragon-man caught something in his sights, he honed in on his pray like a literal dragon hoarding gold. 

And now, Thranduil could almost feel bad for Bilbo Baggins, seeing as Smaug had targeted him the second he laid eyes on the small Hobbit, and now -- it was like a fish in a net. There was little Bilbo could do to escape from the Dean. 

Letting his laptop come closed with a light snap, Thranduil sent a glance toward Bilbo, “well?” 

“I’m Bilbo Baggins, from the Shire.” Bilbo gulped, wondering if he had to say any more about himself, scared of revealing too much to Smaug that the man could use as leverage, “I like to garden and cook. I’m majoring in Culinary Arts.” 

The human and elf had enough tact to nod politely, while the others looked at him with such contempt. Smaug, on the other hand, looked positively tickled, his eyes wide with mirth as if he had just figured out the treasures of the earth. 

“Aragorn Strider, from Gondor. I am majoring in Business, minoring in Engineering.” He tilted his head, before leaning back in his chair and looking rather uncomfortable, despite the confidence he exuded. He seemed like quite a nice man, confident, strong, and friendly. 

Their eyes shifted to the elf, who regarded them politely, eyes lingering on Aragorn for an extended moment, before meeting Smaug, though not quite looking him in the eye. He was a smart elf, and while he wasn’t intimidated by Smaug, he knew of his power, “I am called Legolas Greenleaf, I hale from Mirkwood. I am double majoring in Archery and Geography, minoring in Language Studies.”

Bilbo could only hope and pray that the Dwarf said something simple, for Bilbo was starting to look horribly under qualified and rather stupid, sitting here with such obviously intelligent men, while he had said _culinary arts._ What was he kidding?  

“I am Buldumin, I am from the caverns of Moria, it has always been a dream of my family line to attend Erebor University.” He started regally, looking rather proud with his long head of chocolate-brown hair that was braided cleanly away from his face and down his chin, creating an intricate weave of braids around his chin. He was of a more slender breed of dwarf, nowhere near Kili or Fili’s stature, but not quite as broad as Dwalin or Thorin, “I am double majoring in metal Working and Swordsmanship, double minoring in Mining and Khuzdul.” 

Oh, dear Mahal, Bilbo was _pathetic._ No wonder Legolas had been so cordial before, anyone would have felt bad for the tiny Hobbit that got into this internship on a loophole! And Aragorn? He had yet to say a word, and was probably laughing internally at Bilbo. 

He was going to be _crushed._

“To begin, I will place you all within the Deans department, and you shall work under myself and Thranduil, despite his earlier words.” Smaug had stretched back during their explanations, rolling his shoulders and bringing his hand up to rest on the back of Bilbo’s chair, fingers curling over the rim and brushing against Bilbo’s shoulder. His smirk widened, “You will be compensated for your work, the starting rate is in your paperwork, and shall be lowered or raised on the basis of your performance and work ethic.” 

Well, Bilbo thought morbidly to himself, at least he was getting paid for this. 

“I have chosen one of you to work directly under myself, in the Deans head office to be my personal secretary, as Thranduil will be working more closely with the other interns.” Smaug’s eyes locked on Bilbo once more, giving the Hobbit a sinking feeling. 

Oh, dear. Bilbo gulped. He had a sinking feeling that he knew _exactly_ who Smaug had picked. 

 

\------ 

 

When Bilbo sauntered into the dining room of Thorin’s house for their usual meeting, he was more than welcome to the customary embrace Kili and Fili offered him, holding them tightly back much to their shock. 

“Bilbo?” Kili’s lips pursed in concern as he shot his brother a look, both of them already having an idea of what had spooked their little burglar so much, “What happened?” 

“Smaug happened.” Bilbo shuddered, allowing himself one more moment of comfort before pulling back, his face downcast and his lips unconsciously pulling into a frown, “I’ll tell you all about the plans.” 

His gait was heavy as he made his way to the table, all the gazes of the company locked on him and his truly miserable expression. As soon as he sat next to Bofur, said dwarf instantly slid his chair close and rested a comforting hand on Bilbo’s knee, leaning in with a question already forming on his lips. 

“We were introduced to the group, it was a general meet-and-greet.” Bilbo shrugged, taking Bofur’s hand quickly and glancing over as Kili and Fili pulled chairs close in on his side. He didn’t dare meet any of the other’s gazes, but inadvertently he found his eyes meeting Thorin’s. 

Looking away quickly, he shifted from looking at the boys to looking at Bofur, “Then Smaug went on to the general details. We would all be appointed under either himself or Thranduil for our internship, that it was a paid internship, you know, things like that.”

“At least you’re making money....” Kili added, an attempt at a smile starting on his lips, but failing quickly as he was met with only a sad smile from Bilbo. 

Bilbo sighed, hanging his head, “Then Smaug went on to say that there was a special position available for one of the interns. That intern would work extremely closely with Smaug, working as his personal secretary while Thranduil’s attention was divvied out for the interns.”

This piqued their interest, all of them leaning forward simultaneously as they hung on Bilbo’s every word. Thorin, in particular, even went so far as to circle the table from where he stood at the head, coming towards the Hobbit and slowing to a stop directly behind the chair. 

Unanimously, there was a thrill of excitement. At the very mentioning of this opportunity, there was literally nothing more perfect. If Bilbo got this special position with Smaug, then they would be four more steps into their plan with little effort. This could be it, the chance they were waiting for to get close to Smaug. 

“And...he picked me.” Bilbo sighed, frowning deeply despite the cheer that erupted around him. Even Kili and Fili were inclined to celebrate, slapping Bilbo on the back excitedly as they jumped to their feet. There were congratulatory slaps on the back and handshakes, but Bilbo was inclined to disagree with their excitement. 

Sighing dramatically, he looked up and couldn’t fight the smile growing on his face at everyones joy. Just because he was terrified of Smaug and felt as though the man might snap at a moments notice and eat him whole, didn’t mean he had to bring down everyones happiness with him. 

Tightening his hand momentarily over Bofur’s, he stood and allowed himself to get swept up in Kili and Fili’s arms, expecting the twirls and twists as they laughed boisterously. The plans couldn’t be going better, this was exactly what they needed, and Bilbo could see that things were going stupendously. His comfort was a small price to pay to get these Dwarves' home back.

Thorin tried desperately to join in their merriment, as much as he’d allow himself. He offered others a shake of the hand and a pat on the back, but he couldn’t bring himself to smile or join in their impromptu singing. Their joyous voices wafted over him happily, singing to the gods loud and happily, but it offered him no comfort. 

When Bilbo had entered the dining room, it had looked as though he had seen a ghost. He was scared. He had tried to voice his opinions on the matter, and while Thorin knew that Smaug was a very dangerous creature that shouldn’t be treated lightly, Thorin had thought before that the Hobbit merely needed to steel his spine and keep with the plan. 

But Bilbo was terrified. He was white as a sheet, and even now, in his embrace of the boys and singing, his smile held a forced edge to it. Bilbo was terrified of Smaug, be it because of the stories the dwarves had told or the mere physical presence of the man, Thorin didn’t know. It was most likely a combination of both, for Thorin already knew that Bilbo’s mind had a way of running away with the Hobbit. Smaug -- he stood dominant and powerful over all his subjects, his presence a fiery beacon of death and dismay. He didn’t mock the Hobbit for fearing Smaug, for it was smart of him to do so. 

Once something caught Smaug’s eye and gathered his attention, nothing would get in his way from getting what he wanted. The mere thought sent a surge of anger through Thorin’s chest, the image of Smaug wanting and dominating over their Hobbit. For the dragon’s eye had locked on Bilbo. 

And for that, Thorin feared.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, Sorry this took so long! I suck at updating regularly! But thank you for reading, I really hope you all like this chapter. It was a bit more serious, but the next will be a bit more light-hearted. :)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story on A03! I really hope everyone likes it! :D  
> Rating has been changed to Teen for the time being.


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